


Ready for it?

by hopeboos



Series: Nails, Hair, Hips, Heels [1]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Coming Out, Coming of Age, Drag Queens, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Is Gay, Fluff, Found Family, Growing Up, Homophobia, LGBTQ Themes, Lee Chan | Dino-centric, M/M, Slow Burn, like really u have to be here for chan and his story as well as the ship, performance unit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-08 07:28:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 64,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21232049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeboos/pseuds/hopeboos
Summary: His parents know. He’s not sure how they found out. Maybe it was that time Mom had to call his name three times before he heard her, because Park Seojoon was shirtless on the TV screen. Maybe it was the time Wonnie walked him to his door after a night out, and his dad had caught a glimpse of her in full drag, fishnets and miniskirt and all. Maybe it was the time an auntie had offered to set him up with a nice girl she knows, and he’d politely turned her down. No thanks, Auntie, he’d said. I’m not really interested.orChan had heard that your teen years were hard, but he couldn't have predicted they'd go like this.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 1) [you, me and infinity](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19228951) was written before this, but it's listed as part 2 bc they can really be read in either order! as both fics cover a similar timeline from different perspectives they contain minor spoilers for each other, but i would say ym&i has more focus on the later events of the story. in the same way, both can be read as stand alones  
2) warning for the content in this fic: homophobia and transphobia, especially in relation to religion, families, and bullying  
3) though this was all written well before the whole wonho thing began, but nonetheless i apologise for any unwitting parallels his chracter has with his current situation, and i hope it doesn't disrupt your reading  
4) to be clear, i'm using the korean age system, and the legal age in korea is 19!  
5) i hope u enjoy!

The first time he kisses a boy, he’s ten, and it’s an accident.

He’s playing football, and he tackles Mark Lee, and ends up on top of him, faces meeting in an awkward mush. The other boys laugh at them, and he gets shoved away by Mark for his efforts, but the game continues without hassle, and they forget about it quickly enough. It was barely even a real kiss. It certainly didn’t feel very nice.

The first time he kisses a girl, he’s twelve, and it’s deliberate. Only he must be doing something wrong, because it’s awful. Neither of them really knows what they’re doing, stood in the corner of this dim hall at the school dance. He gets some of Sungyeon’s hair in his mouth and doesn’t know where to put his hands, feels awkward touching the skin on her arms, wants to run away as soon as their mouths touch. It doesn’t last very long, which he’s glad for, and they barely even stop to look at each other before going back to their respective friends to brag, to pretend that it was better than it was. He doesn’t talk to her again after that.

The point is, his kiss with Mark Lee wasn’t his gay awakening, but bumping into him in the street at fifteen and being struck with the thought that _he’s kinda hot now _probably is. He thinks about Mark Lee when he lies in the dark that night and starts understanding why he gets nervous around some of the older boys in school, throat closed up and palms sweaty whenever they so much as look his way. Starts understanding why he was so much closer with Yewon than he was any boys in middle school, and why he would get embarrassed for being teased about it. It was more likely Chan was into the boys that teased him than he was in Yewon.

He does his research (he goes to Naver) to find out what it all means, to find the other people like him. Watches K.Will’s _Please Don’t_ music video too many times to count, and scrolls through forums late into the night, reading different accounts of people’s sexuality crises and subsequent coming out experiences. There’s not a whole lot of positive accounts, but the fact that there are other people like him, who understand, is a small comfort. Still, he walks around school feeling like he’s the only one that doesn’t belong, feeling like he’s harbouring a big, dark secret that can’t ever be spoken, because he’s heard how things might fall to pieces if the world finds out.

He lets the older boys pass in the hallway without looking back at them. Well, he only looks back for a second. Just a glance.

-

He goes from not knowing what _gay_ means to suddenly seeing evidence of it everywhere. He’s watching an American show with his parents and suddenly realises why two of the men live together. A Thai singer performs in Seoul and infamously kisses one of her female backing dancers on stage. They’re doing their warm-ups at dance, Teacher Junhui taking them through some easy stretches, when he hears the sound of the dance studio door clicking shut behind him. He turns to see a boy enter the room, who can’t be much older than him, but he’s not a student; as soon as Junhui sees him, he straightens up.

“Keep going, everyone,” he says, walking around the students to come and meet the boy. Chan leans down to touch the floor between his feet, and out of the corner of his eye, sees Junhui stand close to him, heads almost touching as they speak in low voices. He’s close enough to hear them, but the conversation is in quick Chinese, so all he can focus on is Junhui’s hand holding his arm, the open expression on the other man’s face. It makes him wonder.

They don’t talk for long before the other man is nodding and stepping away, giving Junhui a comforting smile, and walking back towards the door of the studio. Junhui backs away too, doesn’t smile as easily, but makes his way back to the front of his dance class with all his professionalism.

“Good job, everyone. Let’s do some star-jumps together, then we’ll start today’s class.”

Dance classes are his favourite time of the week. Even though it means a long day, going from school to his extra tuition to his dance class, it’s always the best way to end the day. Dancing sets him free; he doesn’t have to worry, here, only jump and turn and hit every beat with his body. When he’s here, he can forget things for a while.

When class ends, though, his thoughts creep back up on him again, and he thinks about Junhui with that boy. The words are on the tip of his tongue, the question he desperately wants to ask, and he deliberately, slowly packs away his dance shoes while trying to work up the courage.

“Did you enjoy class today, Channie?” Junhui asks, clearing aside the mats some of the students had been using to practise the jumps.

“Oh, yes! I always do,” he says, brightly. The last few stragglers are leaving through the studio door, and his words echo around the wood-panelled room.

“Good! I thought you might enjoy the spins in the middle of the choreography,” Junhui smiles, pleased. “They’re your sort of thing.

“You know me well, then.”

“You’d hope so, with two years of teaching you,” Junhui says, cheery.

There’s a pause as he finishes packing his back, zipping it up with finality.

“Hyung?” Chan asks, when he’s sure there’s no one else left in the room.

“Yes?”

He swallows down his apprehension. He really wants to know. “Was that boy who came in earlier your boyfriend?”

“What? Minghao? Oh, no!” Junhui says, surprised, pausing in stacking up the last of the mats. “No, we’re just friends. He’s recently moved to Korea to live with me, and he needed my help with something.”

“Oh,” Chan says, cheeks colouring. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Junhui says, stopping to give all his attention to the conversation. “You don’t have to apologise.”

“You’re not offended?”

“No! It’s not a bad thing to assume. I’m close to him, after all. I was just surprised; he’s barely older than you, Channie.”

“It’s not like you’re ancient,” he points out.

“No, but I’ll be graduating University this year, and he’s still high school age,” Junhui says. “It would be weird, wouldn’t it?”

“I suppose,” he shrugs. He wants to ask if this means Junhui is gay, like him; he certainly doesn’t seem bothered that Chan made such a presumption. Instead, he stands up and collects his bag, figuring that he’s overstayed his welcome. “Thank you for the lesson, Hyung!”

“No problem, Chan,” Junhui says quietly. “Anytime.”

-

He makes a friend on one of the forums. Chan makes a long post about his past crushes, describing how he’d been confused about his feelings before, until one day it had all clicked, and he finally understood the feelings to be attraction. Talks about how he didn’t even realise that attraction to other men was possible, because people don’t like to talk about gay people, don’t like to acknowledge they even exist unless it’s to make a joke out of them, or to damn them to hell. Going to church with his parents has been increasingly uncomfortable as he starts to understand that his feelings make him come under the scope of _sinners_, make him the very person that needs to be saved. He’ll ask Mom if he can quit, soon, even if he knows what her answer will be.

User One_Hoe leaves him a nice response, wishing for better times for him, and they get to talking. Chan learns that Wonho comes from a very supportive family with many siblings, most of whom don’t tease him too much about being gay. He’s two years older than Chan, but still in high school, one of the nicer schools in Seoul. He hasn’t come out in school, but there’s rumours enough, he says.

_What do you do when the rumours get too much? _he asks. He can’t imagine how hellish school would be if he had people whispering behind his back, saying things he doesn’t want them to think about him.

_I go to be with my people_, Wonho says. _Do you know the Looking Star in Itaewon?_

_The what?_

_The gay club_

He frowns down at his phone, wonders if it’ll sound stupid to say that he didn’t realise there were clubs specifically for gay people. _I’m sixteen, I’m not old enough for clubbing_

_Neither am I, it’s called the magic of a fake ID_

He looks around him instinctively, though he’s the only one in his bedroom. Wonho is doing something illegal to get into a club, and by the sounds of it, he does it often. Like it’s easy.

_If you want to come sometime, let me know. I can sort it out_

He smiles, glances at his door as if his parents might catch onto what he’s planning.

_Do you want to meet up tomorrow?_

They meet up twice before they agree to go to the Looking Star together, and it’s enough to convince Chan that Wonho is exactly who he says he is, that he’s not going to take him out to the club only to kill him in a back alley, or something. He’s proven somewhat wrong, though, when he turns up to their agreed meeting place on a Friday night and Wonho isn’t there. In their meeting place is a tall woman with thick makeup and a tiny miniskirt on that he carefully avoids, turning around to look up and down the road for Wonho.

“Channie!”

He recognises that as his voice, so he must be here somewhere. He spins again, trying to spot him in the crowd of people outside the club. Maybe he’s already queueing up.

“Chan,” his voice says again, much closer, this time with a hand on his shoulder. Chan spins around to see the short-skirt woman standing there. “Sorry, maybe I should’ve given you a heads-up about the outfit. I know I look a little different.”

“Hyung?” he says, unable to conceal his surprise. It’s hard to believe he’s looking at his friend; he looks completely different, bold features popping out with the help of the makeup, midriff on display and a strappy crop top that makes him look convincingly female.

“Have you never seen drag before, Channie?” he says, putting an arm around Chan’s shoulders and leading him towards the short queue outside.

“Drag? What is that?” he says, gaping at the amount of thigh on display.

“Well, I could tell you, but it’s better to show you. You’ll see soon enough; there’s a performance on here tonight. Hey, you can call me Wonnie-Noona, yeah? I’m One Hoe, when in drag.”

“Really?” he says. “Do you want to be a woman, Noona?”

One Hoe winks at him, her smile quick. “Only for the night, baby.”

When they get inside, he’s almost surprised to find it full of people. Talking to people online is one thing; seeing them in real life, actually here and dancing with each other, existing in an environment made for them—it makes him feel strange. Nervous, maybe, but so excited, too. There’s even one or two people dressed up like Wonnie is, flashy dresses and heavy lipstick, and she even greets some of them. She doesn’t stray far from Chan, though, always sticking close, always checking that he’s comfortable as they go and dance together. He’s never been a shy dancer, but he’s also never been to a club before, and this is a very different type of dancing to his usual. Wonnie eases him into it, tells him to dance however he likes. They’re here for him to have fun, after all.

So he does; the two of them dance to all the songs they know and talk during the ones they don’t, and it’s fun. This would be fun in a big group of friends, if he had one—to dance with different people, to sit down when he likes and go back to dancing when he likes, without making Wonnie sit down with him too. Being an adult would make it easier, too—she refuses to order him more than one beer, has him on pepsi the rest of the night, reminding him that he’s trying not to get caught by his parents when he goes home. It doesn’t take away from the novelty of it all, though, the atmosphere of the place, the energy. 

While the dancing is fun, what he remembers most from the night is the performance; the room going quiet as a beautiful woman steps on stage, mic in hand, introducing herself as RisKey, and welcoming them all to her act. He glances over at Wonnie, who only smiles and nods at him. This must be the drag thing she was talking about, he supposes.

“I’m honoured to be playing for you all tonight,” she says. Her eyelids look heavy with the amount of gold glitter on them. “The Looking Star is a fantastic place, because I get to come and see all you wonderful people.”

People on the tables around them cheer and clap for her, and RisKey smiles, all teeth and sharp eyes.

“Alright, that’s enough soft talk. Who’s ready for things to get risky?” she says it with a growl and a smirk, and he can tell she’s got this down, the command of riling up her audience. The patrons go wild for it, and loud music starts blasting, bassline thrumming through the club. Her red painted lips curl as she starts to dance, shimmering gold dress catching the light as she turns and dips down, arching her back as she comes back up again. Legs wide to support her stance, she wiggles her butt, long red hair bouncing down her back as she does.

“It’s a dance!” Chan exclaims, looking at Wonnie, who winks at him.

“I thought you’d like it!” she says, shouting over the noise of the music.

She’s right, of course; he loves dance, any type of dance, but this is new to him, the sexiness of it, the mood of the room, the look that accompanies it. RisKey is a good dancer, movements finely tuned and powerful, but her engagement with the audience is the most stunning thing—the way she can make them call for her with one dance move, the way she throws her hair over her shoulder with confidence. He’s positively mesmerised. This isn’t just a dance—it’s a performance, a whole act that starts and ends with her.

At one point, she pulls her gold dress over her head to reveal a sheer bodysuit underneath, and it sends the people around him wild. He can’t conceal his own gasp, but she doesn’t even stop to revel in the moment; she continues to dance, all body rolls and dirty grinds, taking tips from people near the front as she goes. When the song ends, she gets a raucous round of applause for her efforts, and struts around the stage in her heels, soaking it all in.

She performs a few more songs before the performance is over, and the EDM tracks the DJ favours come back on, RisKey walking off stage as people swarm back onto the dance floor again.

“Wow,” Chan says, and Wonnie laughs.

“It’s pretty impressive, right?”

He sits back where he’d been leaning forward in his seat, focus intense on the stage. “Do you do all that? A whole performance?”

Wonnie looks away for a moment. “Not yet. But maybe, one day, if I can be good enough.”

“That would be amazing,” Chan gushes. He hadn’t even realised that Wonnie likes to dance. “I would come and support you! You know I would.”

“I would hope so!” Wonnie says, though she’s smiling abashedly at his enthusiasm. She stands up, gesturing towards the dance floor. “For now, do you want to dance with me, just for fun?”

“I would love to,” Chan grins, and follows her out onto the floor, energy high on the excitement of the night, the thrill of being among the community he’s found himself a part of.

-

On Monday nights, he has Youth group to attend. It’s a weekly thing, compulsory for all the teenagers at his church, to make sure they’re getting the right life lessons, or whatever. He’s never been particularly excited about it, but in recent months, he’s come to dread it. With his existence being antagonised by the church, he knows he’s the odd one out, the secret mole amongst righteous followers. Each week he dreads what they’ll say next, what fresh guidelines he can’t conform to and thus will subsequently agonise over; what topics they’ll speak about that might, somehow, expose him.

“Does anyone know what the bible says about relationships?” Teacher Hwayoung asks the room. They’re sat in a semi-circle, Hwayoung at the front, facing the teenagers with an expectant look.

“I had a conversation with Pastor Park on Sunday about this,” Kwangsoo says, an upright boy with the tendency to wear his religion like a badge. “We were discussing how important it is to have relationships with other people in the church. The differences between you will be too much for you to be able to lead the life God wants for you, otherwise. Even if you think they’re a good person, you need to know you can spend the rest of your life with them in a way that will honour God, and allow you to fulfil your role on earth.”

“Very good point, Kwangsoo,” Hwayoung says agreeably. “It’s important you find someone compatible with God’s plan for you, and it’s difficult to be in a relationship with someone who doesn’t already have a relationship with God. I was wondering if we could discuss some other aspects the bible says about relationships. Does anyone know what I might be talking about?”

“Homosexual relationships?” Jiwon says, and Chan tries not to tense up in his seat, tries not to make himself totally obvious. “The bible declares them a sin against God.”

“You’re right, yes. We need to help homosexuals see the error of their ways. God will not allow them into heaven, but they can always be saved. But that’s not what I was hoping to talk about. Do you guys know the importance of chastity in relationships? What’s the most important thing to remember when you’re in a relationship, especially at your age?”

“Ah,” Kwangsoo says loudly, at the same time as a couple of other kids mumble,

“No sex before marriage.”

“That’s right. You have to remember that it is important to respect yourself, and to devote yourself to God before your partner. Sex is reserved only for the person you want to spend your life with, so that you can have your own children, and raise them with the values of the Church. That attitude applies to more than intercourse, too; you should even be careful of sexual acts before marriage. Touching or sexual kissing can distract from the personal nature of your relationship. You need to be careful about how much you indulge. Remember that God sees all, and he knows what’s inside your heart.”

“Promiscuity is awful these days,” Kwangsoo declares. “Girls try to wear their school skirts as high as possible, boys run around looking for girlfriends as if that matters at our age. What matters is finding a wife that will love God as much as she loves you.”

“I agree, Kwangsoo,” Hwayoung says, encouraging. “You should practise chastity in how you dress and act, too, even if you’re not in a relationship. It puts you in the right mindset to find the right person under the Lord’s guidance. You should be wary of clubs, and parties, and places that don’t encourage Christian values. You won’t find anything there of value to you; of course, God wants you to experience life fully. But remember that if you surround yourself with the Devil’s ideas, it becomes easier for him to infiltrate your life. God should be your first priority in everything you do, and you should remember that you’re God’s representative on earth, wherever you go.”

Kwangsoo nods through her whole speech like he already understands the nuances of Christianity at sixteen, like she’s simply laying out the thoughts already in his head. Chan can’t bring himself to do anything but swallow down the lump in his throat.

Hwayoung puts a video on after that, about some man with an ex-porn-addiction. He talks about how porn ruined his life, about how he’s six years free of it and feeling ever better, feeling closer to God. Chan barely pays attention, though, thinking about how much fun he’d had at the Looking Star and about how much he hates it here, being told how to act and what to do if he wants to go to heaven. He’d be very happy to leave here and never look back, never be told he’s disappointing God again. Only he knows how much it would hurt his Mom. He knows his Dad would never allow it.

On his way home, with fresh air in his lungs and his head free of that confining room, he decides to text Wonho. _Can we go back to the Looking Star soon?_

_Name the date and let’s go, _comes the reply, minutes later.

Chan bites his lip before typing out the next part. He thinks about Hwayoung’s words, about chastity and values. He thinks about how much Kwangsoo would deplore him for this, and that thought is what makes him press send_. This time, will you help me dress up, the way you did before?_

-

“Would you like this?” Wonho asks, holding up a sheer white dress against himself.

“I’m not sure,” Chan says, flicking through the rest of the clothes in Wonho’s wardrobe. “Are you sure any of this will fit me properly? You are quite a bit bigger than me.”

“It’s okay, we can pin it up a little. How about this?” This time he pulls out a bright yellow number, summery and sweet, covered in pink blossom petals.

“That’s nice,” he smiles, feeling the material. It’s thrilling to imagine the dress on himself, and he holds the dress a few seconds longer than he has to, lost in the thought.

“Great choice,” Wonho says, eyes twinkling. “I think this will suit you. We can do some soft pink eyeshadow to go with it—oh, you’ll be so cute, Channie!”

He smiles and looks at the floor. “What concept are you doing for tonight?”

“I have this leather dress I’ve been dying to try out,” he says, pulling said dress from the rack. Chan gapes at it, and looks back at the yellow dress in his hands, and half wishes he’d gone for something more daring, too.

Maybe next time. The thought of a next time makes anticipation rise up in his chest, and he looks back at the yellow dress.

He has a feeling tonight is going to be fun.

“So what do you want your name to be?” Wonnie asks as she’s applying the last of her makeup. He doesn’t answer immediately, concentrating hard on applying the yellow nail polish so that he won’t fuck up yet another nail.

“Hm?” he says, holding his hand up to the light to admire his work.

“You need a name for tonight. Do you have any ideas?”

He picks up the nail polish again, starting on the other hand. “Can it be any name?”

“Anything you like.”

“Well, my parents have called me Dino ever since I was small. Like, little dinosaur. I used to be obsessed with them.”

Wonnie smiles at him in the mirror. “That’s pretty cute. Dino.”

“But I want it to be flashier than that. It might be weird to be called that in the club, anyway.”

“How about Dino Dick?”

Chan snorts in laughter, and it makes him slip up on his index finger. He doesn’t even complain about it, just reaches for the nail polish remover and continues on, giggling at her suggestion. “Are you serious?”

“Okay, maybe not that, then,” Wonnie says, laughter in her voice.

There’s a pause for a moment as Chan thinks.

“Do you like Diva?” he says finally, not looking at her. “Diva Saur?”

“I do like that,” Wonnie says, after carefully applying the wing of her eyeliner. “Diva Saur. It suits you.”

“Yeah,” she smiles, finishing the coating on her pinkie finger and blowing on her nails gently. “Okay. Diva it is.”

It takes her a little while to get used to everything. The clothes are pulled tight, not as comfortable as the loose dancing clothes she’s used too, and she’s in a pair of heels that are, at first, challenging. She keeps patting her wig, making sure it’s in place, and Wonnie keeps swatting her away, telling her she’s fine. She seems generally delighted, though, to be out with someone else in drag, keeps grabbing Diva by the shoulder or arm and singing little tunes happily. Diva can barely conceal how much she’s enjoying herself too, feeling the dress cling to her middle, feeling tall in the new shoes, feeling pretty in the pink eyeshadow Wonnie had applied for her. Most of all, she feels daring; it’s an adrenaline rush, to feel like a new person, a more exciting person, someone who can be in this club and dance in this pretty dress with her friend all night long, if she likes.

There’s a different queen performing that night. Her name is Hoshi, and she’s stunning—she’s got this leopard-print bodysuit on that clings all over, and it’s impressive than she can move in it, never mind dance in the way she does, all sharp movements and fast travelling across the stage. She, too, has stage presence in buckets, keeps growling into the mic and purring in thanks for tips. Diva doesn’t know what to make of her until a SHINee song comes on, at which point she decides she trusts her with her life; her dance to Sherlock embodies the energy of five idols, as well as some of her personal flare, all bared teeth and sharp looks, and it’s stunning. She desperately wants choreography tips from her. When, half an hour into her set, she still has the energy for one last song, Diva can’t help but be impressed by her stamina. Her chest heaves as an RnB track starts up, but like a woman possessed, exhaustion doesn’t stop her from pleasing the crowd, moving her body to the bassline and loving every minute of the attention.

“She’s amazing, isn’t she?” Wonnie says into her ear as Hoshi leaves the stage to a standing ovation from the club.

“Yeah,” she says, dazed.

“Apparently she’s planning on opening her own club later this year,” Wonnie says, standing to lead them out onto the dance floor again. “Maybe we should go and visit.”

“Yes please,” she says immediately, and Wonnie laughs at her.

They dance together for a while, laughing and singing along to the pop songs that play, avoiding the creepy men and greeting the people Wonnie knows. At some point in the night, she catches a glimpse of a leopard-print bodysuit, and when the bodies move aside they reveal none other than Hoshi, dancing with a friend of her own not two feet away from them.

“Hey!” Diva says, completely without meaning to. Hoshi doesn’t hear her, but her friend does, tapping her on the shoulder and pointing to Diva. Hoshi turns around and looks at her with round eyes, expectant.

“Your stage was really good!” she blurts, leaning into Hoshi’s space to shout above the noise. “You’re amazing!”

Hoshi’s face splits into a smile, eyes turning into happy lines, teeth glinting under the club lights. “Thanks, darling! You look beautiful tonight!”

“Y-you too!” she stammers, unprepared for the compliment. Hoshi winks playfully, before her friend pulls her away, towards the bar.

“Oooh,” Wonnie coos, and Diva slaps her away. “A little starstruck, are we?”

“Shut up, Unnie,” she says, hoping her blush is hidden under the makeup. “I just thought she was really good, is all.”

“Sure, baby,” Wonnie says, before proceeding to twirl her around until she laughs, trying not to stumble in her heels.

-

His parents know. He’s not sure how they found out. Maybe it was that time Mom had to call his name three times before he heard her, because Park Seojoon was shirtless on the TV screen. Maybe it was the time Wonnie walked him to his door after a night out, and his Dad had caught a glimpse of her in full drag, fishnets and miniskirt and all. Maybe it was the time an auntie had offered to set him up with a nice girl she knows, and he’d politely turned her down. _No thanks, auntie,_ he’d said. _I’m not really interested._

No one talks about it directly, but things have started to change, so he knows they know. It doesn’t really matter how they know; what matters is that his Mom has started asking him to discuss the church youth group meetings with her every week, to make sure he understands the importance of a relationship with God and turning away from sin. What matters is that his parents have started policing when and where he goes out, increasingly asking who he’s going with, increasingly keeping him in his room when they’re not satisfied with the answer. What matters is that, one time, during their dinnertime prayers, his Dad says _and_ _may God provide strength to the homosexuals, to see the error of their ways._ He can’t eat much of his meal, that day, and goes to bed early.

He skips Youth group that week to go and see Wonho instead. They meet at Seventeen Café, where they’d chosen to meet in person for the first time, more nervous and fumbling than now, a year into their friendship.

“How’s things, Channie?” Wonho greets.

“You know exactly how things are,” Chan grumbles. Wonho has been his only solace through his hours confined indoors, his only confidant, and they’ve been messaging a lot in between Wonho’s studies for his final exams. “My parents are being impossible.”

“At least they’re not too harsh,” Wonho says, though he doesn’t sound too convinced. “It could be worse.”

“It could,” he agrees. “But it’s still not fun trying to tiptoe around them. I feel like they don’t really want me around, because when I’m there, they have to think about what to do with me.” He laughs, humourless. “I bet I’ve made it into my Mom’s daily prayers. _Please make my son not gay anymore. Amen._”

“God, I could not imagine,” Wonho says, cupping his face in his hand to look at Chan. “Every fucking day I’m grateful to have my family.”

“I wish I could have your family. Can I move in? Would they adopt me?”

“I’m sure they would, you know.”

“Make room for me. I’m not joking around, I’ll really come and live with you.”

Wonho smiles. “I know you still love your parents, though.”

“Of course I do,” Chan says. “We just have a difference of opinion on something pretty huge. I don’t know how to overcome that.”

“They’ll come around,” Wonho says. “They love you too, so they’ll have to come around eventually.”

“They love God more than they love me,” Chan says. “We’re at a stalemate.”

Wonho sighs. “I really hope not. For your sake.” The way he says it is heavy, and Chan looks up from his hot chocolate.

“What’s going on with you, Hyung? Finals getting you down?”

Wonho pauses for a second, stalling by taking a sip of his own drink. “Yeah, I suppose so. My dad dropped some pretty big news on me yesterday, too.”

“What news?”

Wonho sighs, and looks at him. “He’s had a promotion at work. His business is moving him to a different branch of the company, in Busan.”

“Oh, no! Does this mean you won’t get to see him often?”

Wonho looks at him for a moment. “Channie, we’re moving to Busan. The whole family. I finish high school at the end of the month, and we’re moving right after that—I’m not even staying for graduation.”

His stomach twists, and disappointment quickly seeps into every bone, every crevice of his body. “You’re moving away?”

“Yeah,” Wonho says, giving him a sad smile. “Two weeks’ time.”

“Oh,” he says, and it’s little more than a breath, not nearly enough to express all of his fear, all of his gutting sadness. He quirks his lips into what he hopes is a smile. “I hope you’ll like it in Busan, Hyung.”

“Oh, come here,” Wonho says, standing up, and Chan doesn’t hesitate to stand up with him, accepting the hug immediately. Maybe if he holds him tightly enough, he won’t leave. Maybe if he stays here long enough, face buried in his broad shoulder, he can imprint the feeling of friendship into his brain. Maybe if he stops himself from crying, he won’t stain Wonho’s shirt.

He’s not successful, a few tears slipping out anyway. Wonho doesn’t say anything; just holds him tight, rubbing at his back in smooth, slow strokes.

“We can still message a lot, you know?” he says, pressing a kiss into Chan’s hair. “As much as you like.”

“I know,” Chan says, holding him hard.

“And you’ll find other friends, I promise. You’re easy to love, Channie. Don’t let anyone take advantage of that, but be confident, and you’ll find someone in no time. Okay?”

“Yeah,” he whispers into Wonho’s neck. “I’ll do my best.” 

“Hello, baby,” Mom says as soon as he comes through the front door. “How was Youth?”

Chan shrugs, slipping off his shoes at the doormat. He’s not in the mood for this conversation right now.

“Come and have your dinner and tell me about it,” she urges, pulling a plate of food out of the oven.

“I’m not hungry,” he mumbles, heading towards his bedroom.

“Hwayoung texted me earlier,” she says when he reaches his bedroom door, and he stops. “Asking if you were sick.”

There’s a pause. “I was,” he says, not facing her.

“Look at your mother when she’s talking to you,” his Father scolds from where he’s sat at the table, finishing his own meal.

He reluctantly turns, meeting his father’s calm eyes, and then his mom’s anxious ones.

“You didn’t go to Youth group tonight?” she asks.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I was seeing a friend.”

“Which friend?”

He looks away. “Doesn’t matter, really. He’s moving out of Seoul anyway.”

“That’s not a good enough reason to skip Youth group, Channie,” Mom says. “You know how important it is.”

He shakes his head, and for once, can’t find the strength to bite back his words. “I want to stop going.”

“To Youth?” she asks, surprised. “I thought you liked it?”

“No, I hate it,” he says. “The Sunday meetings, too. I don’t want to go anymore.”

“It’s very important that you continue going, son, even if you find it hard. Staying close to God is vital at your age, when there are so many other temptations in your life.”

He closes his eyes. “I want to find God on my own. I don’t feel close to him in those meetings.”

“You have to persevere,” Mom insists, and he can feel her hands on his shoulders. “You have to open your heart to Him, Chan, and listen carefully to your lessons. The topic tonight would’ve been very helpful to you, baby. I wish you’d gone.”

He opens his eyes. “So it was about homosexuality?” he says, without any of his usual self-preservation, anger finally getting the better of him. His mom lets go of his shoulders, stunned. “Good thing I didn’t go, then, because nothing is going to cure that, and I wish you’d stop trying to.” He looks over to his dad, who’s staring at him, shocked.

He’s broken the unspoken household rule, said the forbidden word out loud, and it’s clear neither of them know how to react. He turns around and disappears into his bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind him.

-

When his tutor tells him that his lessons will end on the second-to-last day of school, it’s the first bit of good news he’s had in weeks. It means he can go straight from school to Wonho’s house, to celebrate him finishing school, and help him pack up his belongings. He’s moving to Busan tomorrow morning.

“How does it feel to be free?” Chan asks.

“Of school, or Seoul?”

“School! You’re not gone from Seoul yet!”

“So good,” he says, falling back onto his bed with a smile. Chan feels like he’s the only one doing any real packing, here. “I’m never doing education again!”

“I thought you were going to University?”

Wonho waves his hands. “You know what I mean; I’m not back in education for like, another two months. I have a long summer ahead of me, decorating my new room, doing lots of drag in Busan, and definitely not studying. That’s what I’m trying to think about right now.”

“That sounds amazing,” Chan sighs. “My summer is going to be so boring. All I have going for me is my dance classes.”

“No, there’s loads to do! You can go out clubbing, you can go shopping in Seoul, we can play video games together—”

“You and I both know that video games are the only thing I’m actually going to do. I don’t have any friends to go out with in Seoul now that you’re leaving, and my parents wouldn’t let me out even if I did.” He opens Wonho’s wardrobe, done with this topic of conversation. “Are all your clothes going in the same suitcase, or are you separating the drag stuff?”

“Put it all in the same suitcase. It’s all going to go in the same wardrobe when I get there.” He stands up from the bed and crosses the room. “Hey. I want you to have something.”

He dumps a handful of Wonho’s underwear in the suitcase and stands up straight. “What’s that?”

Wonho pulls out a dress from his wardrobe, still on its hanger. It’s the little yellow number he’d worn all those weeks ago, the first time he’d gone out in drag. They’d gone out again twice since then, but this look is still his favourite, from their most memorable night together.

“Hyung…?”

“I want you to have something you can wear, when you go out clubbing again with new friends,” he says, sending him a pointed look. “I can’t wear it anymore, anyway. You suit it so much more than I do, it’s unfair.”

“No,” he protests weakly. “I can’t take that—it must’ve cost you a lot! It’s a really nice dress!”

“But what use is it if it sits in my wardrobe, just to make me sad that you aren’t in Busan to wear it?” He slides the dress off the hanger so that the material falls limp. “I want you to have it.”

Chan reaches out his hands slowly, as if handling something delicate. “Thank you,” he says quietly. It still feels soft, and smells the way Wonho’s house does. “I don’t have any makeup to wear with it, though. Not that I know how to apply it.”

“I’ll buy you some for your birthday,” he says, voice full of affection. “Direct post from Busan. It only takes a little practise to get used to applying it. You’re a natural beauty, anyway.”

“Thanks, Hyung,” he says, bringing Wonho into a grateful hug, holding him close while he can.

-

Despite his lockdown at home, he’s still allowed to go to dance practise, because his parents trust it. Dance is the one thing they can rely on to be a positive outlet, something pure and rooted in his childhood passion that they can nurture. It’s the one thing they like to brag about to the extended family, the one thing they know will draw praise, will draw attention away from the fact that Chan has no interest in the girl Auntie knows, has more interest in the male idols on his lockscreen.

So Junhui’s classes becomes his only saving grace between the hours wasting time at home, between the Youth and Church meetings he dreads, between pictures from Wonho of his new home. Dance class, every Wednesday night, his final solace.

Junhui, of course, notices that he starts lagging behind at the end of classes, always the last to leave, dragging himself from the room. The lesson goes on for two hours, and most students leave as soon as they can, eager to get home or go out with friends before their curfew. He lingers, packing his bag slowly, watching himself in the mirror and wiping his sweat away with unnecessary care.

“You did well today,” Junhui compliments, coming to sit by him on the floor.

“I know,” he says, trying for a smile.

His hands rest on his knees. “So why don’t you look very happy?”

He shrugs. “I’ve got to go straight home after this. My parents will get suspicious if I’m out longer than I should be.”

Junhui grimaces in understanding. “Ah, the dreaded curfew.”

“It would be better if it were a curfew, but it’s more like house arrest. The older I get, the less they trust me—I’m seventeen, but they treat me like I’m still in middle school. Isn’t that backwards?”

“They can’t come to terms with you growing up. I imagine it’s hard to watch your baby become independent.”

“I don’t think it’s that I’m growing up. It’s that I’m finally being honest with myself, and I’m changing. But they don’t want to know about what I’m becoming.”

A pause hangs between them for a moment. “Well, it’s important to respect your parents’ decisions,” Junhui says. “But that shouldn’t mean that you can’t make yourself happy, too.”

“It’s not like I can go against what they want. It would only make things harder for all of us.”

Junhui nods. “Of course, I’m not saying to be disobedient. But try and work within their limits. Or find new ways to do the things you want to do—organise study dates with your friends, so at least you’re together even if you’re working. That sort of thing.”

Chan looks down at his feet again. “I don’t have any friends. I just want to have some freedom for myself.”

He can see Junhui looking at him, and he doesn’t want to raise his head to meet a face of pity, or disappointment. He stands instead, gathering up his bag. “It’s okay, Hyung. I’ll figure it out.”

“I’m sure you will,” Junhui replies, lying back on the floor to look up at Chan. “You can always come to me, you know. If you need to talk.”

Chan smiles down at him gratefully. “Thanks. I will.”

Junhui waves to him. “Have a safe walk home! Things will get better, I promise.”

“Easy for you to say,” he remarks, headed across the studio towards the door. “I can’t wait to be in University and able to control my own life.”

“Actually, I’ve just graduated. Now I have to control everything; my income, my taxes, my washing. It’s not all fun and games, being an adult.”

“It’s still better than having no control at all,” Chan says, turning to walk into the door backwards, pushing it open with his back and waving at Junhui as he does. “See you next week, Hyung!”

His mom looks up from the TV when he walks in, smiles at him despite the tired eyes, the late hour. She’s been waiting up to make sure he’d come home on time, even though she has work early tomorrow.

“Hello, darling. How was class?”

“It was good,” he says, keeping his voice light. “Junhui is teaching us a bit of contemporary, now.”

“Good, good,” she replies, like she didn’t really hear him. “Did you see Eunwoo? Does he still go to that class?”

“No, he graduated into the adult class this year,” he says, headed across the apartment towards his room.

“I was thinking, baby,” she says, right as he’s pulling his door open. He pauses, holds his breath for what she’s going to say next. “You could invite Yewon over, if you like. It’s been a while since we’ve seen her.”

“That’s because I don’t speak to Yewon anymore, Mom,” he sighs, throwing his dance bag into his room and turning to face her. “My friends from middle school grew apart, got different friendship groups when we came up to high school. It’s okay, though. I can get by fine on my own.”

“But it’s always nice to reconnect with people, Channie!” she says, switching the TV off and standing up, wrapping her night gown around her. “I’m sure she wouldn’t say no!”

“It’s okay, Mom. I’d rather not.”

It’s not a complete truth, that he’s on his own—he has kids he sits next to in classes, people he’ll talk to in dance lessons. He’s not a complete loner. But he’s friendless enough to be sitting on his own at lunch times, to be taking walks around the school building during break, just for something to do. He doesn’t mind, really; he thinks making friends with the boys at school might just make him shrink further into the closet.

“I worry about you, baby,” Mom says, voice soft. She’s crossed the room to come up to him and cup his cheek in her hand, and he tries to shoot her a smile.

Maybe if you let me quit church, I’d be happier. Maybe if you didn’t try to avoid the reality of who I am, you wouldn’t be so worried. Maybe if I could stop liking boys, we wouldn’t be in this situation.

“You don’t have to be,” he tells her, before turning his head to press a quick kiss to her palm, pulling away from her. “I’m okay. Really. Goodnight.”

She drops her hand, watching him move into his bedroom. “Good night, little Dino,” she says, pulling his door shut behind him, leaving him in the silent isolation of his room. Dino has always been his favourite nickname from his parents, but these days he can’t help but feel like it’s a burden. Like they want him to be four years old and mad about dinosaurs, rather than the seventeen-year-old mess he is now, the problem they’re trying so hard to solve.

He wipes his damp eyes and pulls his shirt off over his head, ready to climb into bed and sleep for as long as he can, be blissfully unaware for a few hours, until another day starts.

-

Just when he thinks his summer is doomed to be the same cycle, week in, week out, dancing and church meetings and his PlayStation 4, something interesting happens.

A man comes into one of Junhui’s lessons, slipping into the back of the room at the end of class and watching them do the routine the full way through for the last time. He focuses on the choreography instead of him, at first, step and jump and land and pose, until Junhui calls for the end of the class, and the students around him immediately disperse. He stalls for time, doing some cool-down stretches instead of going straight for his bag.

Junhui is threading through the crowded room, praising students and taking money from those who owe it, and Chan can tell the other man is impatient in waiting for him to approach. It isn’t the same man who came before; he looks a few years older, and he has some very vibrant red hair.

“You’re here early,” Junhui says to him. Chan is pleased that the conversation is in Korean, this time, allowing him to eavesdrop successfully.

“I’m excited!” he says, grinning wide, and Chan thinks his smile looks familiar. “Aren’t you? It’s opening night!”

“I thought you’d be spending every spare minute at the club, not coming to pick me up early and watching me teach!”

“It’s ready. I’m done setting up. Staying there with nothing to do just makes me fidgety.”

Chan moves over to collect his bag, realising he’s the only student left in the room. “Let’s go, then,” Junhui says. “We’ve got a busy night ahead of us.”

“You want to lock up with a student still in the room?” the man says, pointing over Junhui’s shoulder at where he’s packing away his shoes.

“Chan!” Junhui says, a little flustered. “I didn’t realise you were still here.”

“Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to listen in, but are you going clubbing tonight, Hyung?”

“Why, do you want to join us?” the man says, and Chan is again hit by the sense of familiarity. It’s the way his expression brightens into a cheeky grin, all sharp eyes and sharp smile. He just can’t place where he knows it from.

“Hey,” Junhui protests, slapping his arm. “Don’t ask my students to come clubbing.”

“It was a joke,” he whines, holding his arm as if wounded.

“Soonyoung is opening his new club for the first time tonight,” Junhui explains. “I’m afraid we have to go and get ready for it, if you’re done…?”

“Oh, yes!” he says, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder. “I hope your opening goes well! What’s the club called? Maybe I’ll come and visit, one day.”

“Try again when you’re an adult,” Soonyoung says cheerily.

“Goodnight, Channie,” Junhui says. He doesn’t miss that neither of them answered his question, and pouts on his way out of the door.

It hits him when he’s halfway home. The new club, the toothy smile, the familiar attitude. It reminds him of his yellow dress, of nights out with Wonho, of looking at Hoshi up on stage, exhilarated by her performance. That’s where he knows that smile from.

This means Junhui is friends with a drag queen. Good friends, by the looks of things; he’s going to help Hoshi open her club, after all, where she’ll probably perform tonight. Where she’ll probably perform a lot of nights in the future, which is something he desperately wants to see again. He thinks about Junhui’s words, about making himself happy despite his parents’ rules. He thinks about Wonho, and how much fun it was clubbing with him. He thinks about how long and lonely this summer has been.

He makes up his mind.

-

His parents have been locking him in the apartment during the hours they’re at work, to make sure they know where he is at all times. His mom always gets back before Youth group or dance class starts, and there’s no reason he’d need to leave the house before then, she says. It’s for your safety, Dad says.

The thing is, both of his parents have door keys, but only his mom uses hers. She leaves the house after his dad but comes back before him, and she’s always the one to lock up at night and go out to get the milk first thing in the morning. His dad, therefore, has no need for his key, he reasons with himself; it doesn’t stop his heart from thudding as he creeps around the apartment in the dark, patting the pockets of his dads coat, rifling through his bag as quietly as he can. When he finds the ring of keys, he slips off the front door key as gently as possible, puts it in his pocket, and returns the ring of keys where he’d found them, at the bottom of his dad’s work bag.

His heartbeat is loud in his ears the next morning, as he lays in bed and listens to his mom unlocking the door. His dad leaves without disruption, and his mom leaves for work shortly after him, calling a goodbye to Chan through the apartment. Hears the key rattle in the door, and hears his mom walk away down the corridor outside. He gives it a few minutes, then approaches the door, armed and ready with his dad’s key in hand. His heart is in his throat as he sticks it in the door, turns it… and the door opens.

A smile spreads across his face.

The phone rings for so long that he’s about to give up, convinced Wonho won’t answer. Just as he’s pulling the phone away, Wonho’s voice comes down the line.

“Hello?”

“Finally! What took you so long?”

“I’m sorry I’m not able to answer to your every beck and call, your highness!” Wonho huffs. Chan can tell from the croak in his voice that he’s only just woken up. “What is it?”

“I need you to tell me what brands are good,” he says, running his hand along the packets and palettes and tubes. “I came out to buy some makeup—I wanted to pick up some basic stuff, but it’s more complicated than I thought.”

“You’re buying makeup?” Wonho sounds more awake now. “Are you going out?”

“Maybe,” he says. “Or maybe I’ll just experiment a little bit. What did you use on me before?”

“Hang on,” Wonho says, and the sound of shuffling comes through the line. “You mean the time with the yellow dress? You want all the brands of everything?”

“Yes, please. Actually, can you text me them, so I have it as a list? I’m going to shop around for the cheapest prices.”

“Sure,” Wonho says, amongst the distant sounds of rummaging in the background. “I feel proud, you know. My drag baby is growing up.”

“Shut up,” he says, inspecting a tube of—something. He’s not really sure what it’s for. “Send me the list, okay? I’ll let you know which ones I buy. Oh, also, where’s good for wigs?”

“I got a lot of mine online, but I do have a really nice one from the costume place in Goto Mall. It’s pricey, but if you’re just getting one, it’s worth it.”

“I’ve got the money. It’s not like I’ve had anything else to spend my allowance on since you left,” he says, tone all fawning and teasing towards the end of the sentence.

“Channie, don’t do this to me,” Wonho whines. “I’ll be back when I can, you know? The Busan drag scene is disappointingly small. We’ll go clubbing together in Seoul sometime and it’ll be a good night.”

“Okay,” he agrees. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“You’d better. Talk soon!” He smooches the receiver before cutting off the line.

He gets the list through a few minutes later, and it’s surprising long. Things he’s not even sure how to use, toner and highlighter and primer. He decides to go for the essentials first—the pretty pink eye shadow, some concealer, the lip gloss, the eyeliner, and an eyebrow pen. He can work up to the rest when he has the confidence, or the slightest clue of why he needs them.

He gives himself a few days to practise. Uses his free time and empty home to get used to applying and wearing makeup, catching himself in mirrors or the reflection of his TV and smiling at the sight of himself all made up and pretty. The eyebrow pen takes the most practise and a few Youtube tutorials to get used to, but he gets them to a shape he’s happy with by the end of the week.

So here he is; he has the outfit, the makeup, the hair. All he has to do is make his own opportunity. His Dad still hasn’t noticed the missing key, and through stalking Hoshi’s social media he’s found the name of her club. The Pink Dive, newly opened and advertising bar jobs, performances throughout the week and deals on drinks. He wants to go more than anything; all he needs to do is get past his parents.

He makes a display of going to bed, bidding them both a goodnight and heading to his bedroom. Turns the light off, leaving only the dim lamp light on, and starts to do his makeup by the mirror. It’s not ideal, but he knows the light from the room will show up under the door otherwise. He listens out carefully, hears his Dad turning in for the night, his Mom following not long after, locking the front door and switching off lights as she moves through the apartment. He sits still and listens for the sound of their bedroom door closing, the silence ringing through after them, still and dark.

He turns his light on again, finishes his troublesome eyebrows. Maybe he should get some foundation next time, do them big and daring like the drag queens on Youtube do. He wriggles into the dress, having some difficulty zipping it up at the back without Wonho’s help, and then takes the wig out of his bag. That, too, takes some trial and error, but eventually he has it fitting well enough, delicate blonde curls framing his face. The shoes are a lot easier, though still fiddly, the tiny buckle hooking around his ankle all snug and delicate.

She stands up straight and looks at herself in the mirror, and for the first time in months, sees Diva standing there, beautiful and different and proud. She hasn’t done the makeup half as well as Wonho had, and the shoes are different (lower heels, for the sake of her sanity), but it’s close enough to make her smile, pleased with herself. It’s been a while since she’d last felt that.

She gives it another half an hour of anxious sitting on her bed, carefully packing her little shoulder back with necessities, waiting to be sure her parents are asleep. When she can’t wait any longer, she stands and goes to her door, heart in her throat as she puts a hand on the door handle.

She’s really doing this. She turns her bedroom light off, and slowly, silently, opens her door.

When she arrives at the club, it’s smaller than she expected, though by no means tiny; the size is decent, can easily fit all the patrons in there. The Looking Star is simply big, she supposes, and she’d gotten used to it. She prefers the layout of the Pink Dive anyway; it enables her to see the whole room easily, to see the stage from anywhere in the club. It also means she can spot Hoshi as soon as she enters, and subtly track her movement around the room. She’s on the lookout for Junhui, too, a familiar face to calm her nerves, but he doesn’t seem to be here tonight. Maybe that’s a good thing; when he told her to make herself happy, sneaking out to illegally visit clubs probably wasn’t what he had in mind.

There’s a performer on stage already, a beautiful queen in a silken outfit, all floaty sleeves and sheer material. It complements her performance wonderfully, traditional elements blended with hip hop dancing, set to modern Chinese track. It’s mesmerising to watch, and she sits herself up at the bar to see it, until she gets distracted by the presence of the bartender.

She realises with a start that with no Wonnie here to be a watchful eye, she can order whatever she wants with her fake ID. The idea sends a thrill through her, before it’s sensibly followed up with the thought that she probably shouldn’t start drinking here, while she’s out on her own, a seventeen-year-old in a new club. She’ll stick with cola for now.

The performance finishes, and she claps along with everyone else as the queen gracefully leaves the stage. In her wake, Hoshi bounds up to greet the crowd. Tonight’s concept seems to be deer inspired; long, straight brown hair is coupled with a brown bralette and shorts, high boots up to her thighs. It’s made complete with the little horns stuck onto her forehead, and the sweet freckles painted across her cheeks.

“Let me hear you cheer for Princess Tiana!” she shouts, and the crowd complies, cheering once again, and it makes Hoshi beam. “She’s wonderful, isn’t she? If you liked her performance, I promise you you’re going to love what’s coming up next. If you’ll please turn your attention to the stage opposite and prepare to have your minds blown by a very talented queen, my wonderful friend, Miss July!”

She looks over to where Hoshi is gesturing, and sees another stage on the other side of the room, where a new queen is already stepping up to perform. The people in the booths nearby cheer; those who had been closer to Tiana’s stage move over to the other side of the room to join the crowd there.

When her performance starts, she realises why the stage change was necessary. Heavy trance music pumps through the speakers, and July promptly takes a hold of the pole in the centre of the stage, hoisting herself up with one hand, and then two, climbing until she’s four feet up off the floor and twirling around the pole to the beat of the song. Diva snaps her mouth shut and blinks, but she can’t tear her eyes away from the performance; despite her height, July is graceful and smooth in the way she moves on the pole, the way she can hang and twist around it with seemingly little effort. Her body turns exactly as she wants it to, in ways she can’t even understand, holding her weight up with her hands or staying suspended on the pole with only the crook of a leg. She can tell the crowd is as mesmerised as she is by the hush that’s descended on the club, all eyes on her, trance-like. When the song ends, four hours or four minutes later, the cheers startle her out of her daze, and she claps feverishly with the rest of them.

Her set goes on like that, a lot of dark beats and stunning moves, and she admires every minute of it, spellbound until it ends and Hoshi steps up onto the first stage again to begin her own set. She can see now that the contradiction of queens here works wonderfully, and the way each of them brings different performances to the stage gives them character, makes for a consistently engaging set of acts.

Hoshi is just as charismatic as she’d remembered. She engages with the audience so well that she would work better as the beginning act, Diva thinks; the crowd are louder than ever, loving every minute as she rolls her body or shows off her floorwork. For one of the songs she leaves the stage completely, comes out into the crowd and dances flirtatiously with those stood around the stage, runs a hand along the tables of those sitting down. No one escapes her attention, including Diva, who gets a glance of her own as she passes, sharp look boring into her. When she moves on, headed back to the stage to finish the song, it feels like she’s taken Diva’s breath with her.

Her last song is an EDM dance track, and she encourages everyone to get out of their seats for it. “This will be the last performance of the night,” she says. “To leave everyone with some good energy, I’d like you all to get out on the floor and dance along with me, in any way you like. Are you up for it?”

The crowd cheer as the music starts up, Hoshi clearly freestyling up on the stage while those around her turn to each other, singing and laughing. Hoshi leaves the stage a minute or two into the song, coming down to mingle with the dancers on the main floor. The stage lights lower to indicate the end of the performance, and Diva turns back to her coke, smiling into the glass. It was worth coming tonight, if only to see these performances, to forget about her life for an hour or so. She pats her bag and downs the rest of her drink, ready to leave now that she’s seen what she’d been looking for.

Only she’s barely swallowed down her drink before a tap comes at her shoulder. She turns in her chair to find Hoshi there, looking up at her.

“Aren’t you coming to dance?” she says. “You’ve been sat there all night.”

It takes a second to overcome her surprise. “I have no one to dance with.”

“You have me,” Hoshi says, putting out a hand. “I can’t let you come and go without even dancing.”

She doesn’t take much convincing. “Okay. Let’s dance.”

As Hoshi leads her out to the dance floor, she turns around and says, “Have we met somewhere before?”

“Ah,” she says, taking in a breath. How much truth to tell? “I complimented you after your set in the Looking Star one time. I was in the same dress.”

“Oh, yes!” They reach the dance floor and Hoshi turns to face her properly, starts moving to the music. “I remember you! You like this dress a lot?”

“It’s the only one I have,” she says, not hesitating to throw her head back and dance. “I’m just starting out.”

“You look cute,” Hoshi says, patting her blonde curls approvingly. “Keep at it, kid.”

They dance together for a while, and it’s nice. It’s easier than trying to shout over the music, and it’s amazing to watch her dancing in person, too see her beautiful makeup up close. It must’ve taken hours, and it pays off in the way it makes her eyes look soft but her cheekbones sharp, in the way her horns blend seamlessly into her skin. It inspires her to try harder, to do better, to be worthy of dancing with someone like her.

Hoshi has people passing by and greeting her all night, but after a while someone stops them in their dancing by shouting over Diva’s shoulder. “Someone’s throwing up in the toilets again, Hosh. You might want to chase them out.”

“Ah, shit,” she curses, and pats Diva on the arm. “Nice dancing with you, baby.”

She turns to watch her go, and in doing so meets the face of their interrupter. It’s none other than July, in all her dark-eyed glory, tall and scantily dressed. She’s star-stuck for about half a second, before July speaks again, and she realises why her voice sounds all too familiar.

“Chan!” she exclaims, taking her by the arm. “What are you doing here?”

“Junhui?” she replies, equally surprised.

July is all wide-eyed and open mouthed, frozen for a moment before she starts dragging her out of the crush of people on the dance floor and over towards a door by the stage. It turns out to lead to a dressing room, crammed with chairs and mirrors and personal belongings. It’s quiet back here, void of people, the music muffled through the wall. It makes her feels a lot less like Diva, and a lot more like a student about to be scolded by her teacher.

There’s someone else in the room. It’s the queen who’d performed first, still in her silk dress, sat on one of the chairs and scrolling through her phone. She looks up as they come in.

“What are you doing here?” July says to Diva once the door is shut, holding both of her forearms gently and ducking down a little to look her in the face. “How did you even get in?”

She shuffles anxiously, looking at the floor. “I wanted to come and have fun. My parents have been stifling me, Hyung, I needed to escape for a little while.”

“You came here on your own?” July doesn’t sound angry, really. She doesn’t think she has the capability to be truly angry, has never seen her be sharp with a student, ever. She only sounds worried, and disappointed. “Do you know how dangerous it can be to go out at night on your own, even as an adult?”

“I was doing it with a Hyung in the spring, but then he moved, and I don’t have anyone else. The only friend I have in Seoul is you.”

There’s a pause, as July straightens up, looking at her with a worried set to her mouth.

“I saw Hoshi perform at another event, and I just wanted to see her again,” she continues, quieter. “I wasn’t going to talk to anyone or take any drinks or even dance! But then she offered, out there…”

“Have you had anything to drink?”

“No! Just cola!”

“Do your parents know you’re here?”

She almost laughs. “No. They’d probably crucify me if they saw me out like this.”

“Does anyone know you’re here? Anyone at all?”

“Not until you found me just now.”

“You see how this is dangerous, right?”

“Being locked away from the world is dangerous, too. I was going to go crazy if I was kept inside my house for another week.”

July sighs, moving her hands to rest on Diva’s shoulders. “You cannot keep coming out on your own like this. It’s not safe.”

“But it makes me happy,” she admits, voice small. “You were really good out there, you know. I didn’t know you could dance like that. It was a great performance.”

July lets go of her to bury her face in her hands, perching on the edge of the nearby couch. “I can’t believe this. I’m going to have to get Hoshi to blacklist you. You really cannot be here.”

“Hyung!” she says, a little taken back. “Please don’t—you know how much home sucks for me right now. This is all I have!”

“Hey,” a voice from behind them says. Diva turns to face the queen now standing up to join them. “Have you had fun tonight?”

“Yes,” she says, honestly. “I loved your performance—your dancing style is so unique. It was really special to watch.”

She smiles. “Thank you. But do you like the club? Did you have the fun you were looking for?”

“Yes! The vibe here is so good. Your crowd is really nice.”

“So you find it safe?”

“Tiana…” July warns.

It doesn’t deter her. “Do you think, if Unnie banned you from the club for your own safety, you’d probably end up going to different clubs instead?”

“Probably. I know my way to the Looking Star by heart now.”

“So would you agree that it would be a better idea if you told us when you were coming here, so that we could look out for you and let you can have fun in a safe space, than if July banned you from the Pink Dive?”

“Oh,” she says, blinking. “Yes, I think so.”

“Wonderful,” she smiles, holding her hand out. “I’m Princess Tiana. I believe I’m your new Unnie.”

She smiles, shakes her hand warmly in return. “Diva. I’m one of Hyu—Unnie’s dance students.”

July stares, defeated.

“What’s going on in here?” Hoshi’s head pops in through the doorway, looking around at them all. “The party is out there, you know?”

“Do you remember the student of mine you asked to come clubbing?” July says, turning to face Hoshi whilst gesturing to Diva. “I’m going to blame you for this one.”

“Huh?” Hoshi says, nonplussed. “I thought you taught the under-nineteens class?”

“I do,” July deadpans.

“Oh!” she gives Diva an appraising look. “You’re a little rebel baby, then?”

She can’t help but smile. “Something like that.”

“Hey!” July says. “Aren’t you concerned about a minor getting into your club?”

“I’ll give you my fake ID!” Diva says quickly. “It can be a part of our deal. Let me come here every once in a while, and I’ll give you my ID, so you know I’m not going anywhere else. You can keep an eye on me the whole time, and I won’t try and drink any alcohol, and I won’t talk to strangers. I’ll be good, I promise.”

July still looks unsure, and Hoshi comes to stand next to her, arms crossed over her chest.

“Please. All I want is to watch you all dance. And to get away from home, to be with people like me. I’ve got nowhere else to go.”

Tiana wraps a supportive arm around her waist as they watch the other two share a look.

Hoshi shrugs. “I’m fine with it. She’ll be safe here, if she has us. It’s up to you.”

July groans, and looks back to Diva, who does her best puppy dog eyes.

“This would’ve meant a lot to me at her age,” Tiana says quietly from beside her. “You know that.”

She turns to look at her. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

“We’re not that different in age,” she says, surprised. Her dancing seems more mature than that.

“They’re only twenty-two,” she replies. “Barely adults themselves.”

“But adults nonetheless,” July says. “Whereas Diva is not.”

“But—”

“However, if you have adult supervision, I can’t see what trouble you might get into,” July says, and her heart jumps. “You can come back, as long as you’re with one of us at all times, you understand? You can come after dance class and travel with me, so that you’re not walking around the city on your own, too. If we do this, we do it in the safest way.”

“Yes!” she exclaims, jumping forwards to hug her. “I will!”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” July says, hugging her back just as tight.

“Wonderful,” Hoshi smiles. “Now, can we get back in my club?”

July drives her home not long later, and she doesn’t mind it. It certainly beats walking home in the dark, surrounded by groups of drunken friends.

“Be careful, okay?” she says.

“I will,” she smiles. “Thank you for the lift home.”

“It’s not like I had a choice. You’ve got me wrapped around your little finger,” July says, and Diva beams as she steps out of the car door and makes her way towards her apartment building.

There’s no one in the corridors at this time, but she takes her shoes off anyway, so as not to wake anyone up with the noise of her heels. When she’s outside her apartment, she holds her breath, putting the key in the lock slowly so as not to make a sound, pushing open the door in miniscule amounts…only to find the apartment still dark. They hadn’t noticed she’d left.

She creeps into her bedroom, and once the door is shut behind her, feels like she could almost pass out with relief. Somehow, she’d pulled that off, all by herself. Finally, she’d made her own freedom, if only for a few hours.

She sits in front of the mirror and starts taking her makeup off, wiping around grinning cheeks and scrunched up eyes. Tonight was good— almost as good as it would’ve been with Wonho. He shoots him a text before climbing into bed, clear skin and stripped of his clothes, shoved under the bed and out of sight. The secrecy of it all is a little thrilling, a little challenge. Something he can have, if he plays his cards right.

Tonight, he played a very good hand.

-

He tells his parents that Junhui has offered him extra lessons, some personal tuition to help him with something. They’re not dancers, so it’s easy to bluff his way around it, tell them that it’s straight after normal dance lessons, that Teacher Junhui will drop him back home afterwards. That he’ll probably be dancing until late, and they needn’t wait up for him.

“Do you need help catching up?” Mom asks worriedly. “I thought you were practising at home?”

“I am!” he says quickly. “I’m doing well, actually! Junhui wants a couple of personal hours with me to… see if I can graduate into the adult class early!”

“Oh, wonderful!” his father claps his hand to his shoulder appraisingly. “Show him what you’ve got, son!”

It’s surprisingly easy, all in all. Dance class ends, and he packs up as normal, waits for the other kids to leave. Helps Junhui tidy up and lock up the studio, then gets in the car with him, and enjoys the drive through Seoul.

There’s someone already in the apartment when they arrive, sitting cross-legged on the floor and doing his makeup in the long mirror. He turns around and smiles as they walk in, standing up to greet Chan with a hug.

“Diva! It’s wonderful to see you!”

“Tiana?” he says, reciprocating the hug easily.

“Yeah, but you can call me Minghao.”

“Chan,” he replies, shaking his hand, and it makes Minghao giggle.

“Nice to meet you again.”

“And you!”

“You can use the bathroom to change if you’d like, Channie,” Junhui says, leaving him to go into one of the bedrooms. “Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“I will!” He slips his dance bag from his shoulder and zips it open to reveal the dress, pulling it out and delving around for his makeup.

“That dress again?” Minghao says in surprise.

“Yes,” he replies, looking up. “Do you not like it?”

“Oh, no, it’s beautiful! But twice in a row?”

“Well,” he says, feeling a little awkward. “I don’t have any others.”

Minghao shakes his head. “Well, that won’t do. I’m sure I’ll have something that’ll fit you! Come on!”

He takes Chan by the hand, pulling him through the apartment into a tiny bedroom that’s mostly dominated by the wardrobe. Chan stands back as he opens it to reveal the crammed array of outfits inside, everything from a store uniform to simple day clothes to sequinned cocktail dresses.

“Wow,” he gasps, coming forwards to admire it.

“I was thinking maybe this,” Minghao says, reaching in amongst sashes and frills to pull out a small black dress, all puffy shoulders and big skirts that rest above the knee, with a white collar and a lacy texture. “What shoe size are you?”

“245.”

“Good enough. You’ll fit into mine if you stuff the toes.” He picks up a pair of black heels to match and lays them both on the bed. “I’ve got a couple wigs that would work well with this too, for a cute maid look—”

“Oh, thank you!” he says, a little overwhelmed, even as Minghao is rummaging through his wig collection. “But I don’t have the right makeup to go with this—I only have pinks—”

“It’s no problem. I’ll finish up my face and help you out with yours, alright? Pick out something else you like, if you don’t want that dress. I don’t mind. What’s mine is yours.” He gives Chan a kind smile and leaves the room again, leaving him to stare at the array of clothes on display.

He sits on the bed and touches the dress. The outside is lacy and rough, but the inside is lined and soft, and he wants to wear it, wants to see how he’ll look like in it. It reminds him of Wonho’s leather dress that he’d wanted to try out for himself, and he thinks about how lucky he is to be here, to have found another place where he can practise and try things out and feel safe throughout it. If he didn’t know any better, he would call it a gift from God, putting him with all the people who can help him the most.

But God isn’t the one looking out for him. Minghao and Junhui are. He picks up the dress, holds it against himself, and spins.

Hoshi takes her by the hand, bringing her close again so they can dance without bumping into the other people on the dance floor. They don’t dance for all that long, just as long as it takes for July’s timeslot to come around, when they go to take a booth to watch her performance from. It’s a completely different set to last week, but just as stunning; she wonders where she practises, if maybe she can ask to come and watch her process sometime.

“Is it weird?” Hoshi asks.

“What?” she says, eyes still on July, spinning around the pole quickly.

“Seeing your dance teacher in her side job,” she says, and Diva glances at her, if only to see her grin.

“I was shocked last week when I realised who she was,” she admits, clapping as July climbs down from the pole. “But I don’t think it’s strange. She’s amazing. An artist. I hope I can be as good as her one day.”

“Do you pole dance?”

“No, no,” she says, quickly. “I’m in the mixed class. We do some contemporary, some street, you know. Broad types of dancing. I’ve never done anything like that.”

Hoshi nods. “July says you’re good. One of the best in the class.”

“She said that?”

“Yeah. Maybe sometime in the future you could be up on the Dive stage too. If you want to.”

She gapes for a moment. Is this a job offer? “I’d love that!”

Hoshi winks. “I’ll remember you when you graduate July’s class, then.”

July joins them then, somewhat dazzling in her shiny leotard, sliding into the booth beside Diva. “You’re up,” she tells Hoshi. “Get out there before Tiana starts sweating.” She gestures to where Tiana is addressing the crowd on stage.

She barely even needs to be told, standing up right as July is sitting down, a seamless switch that only serves to remind her of the babysitting situation she’s found herself in. She bites her tongue, remembering to be grateful for their care and attention instead of being ruffled by it.

“Everything okay?” July asks.

“Brilliant! You were amazing, of course.”

“Thanks,” she says, abashed.

“You’re seriously so talented. I wish I knew about it before.”

“And how do you think that would go down with my other students?” she shakes her head. “A lot of parents would not be happy that I’m a drag queen pole dancer in my spare time. It’s better my lives stay separate.”

“So what am I? The crossover point?”

“You’re the exception,” she says, grabbing Diva playfully by the shoulders and digging her hands in.

“Hey!” she says, laughing and wriggling out of her grasp. “Aren’t I the best exception?”

“The only one I’ll allow,” she assures her, patting her arm. Up on stage, the lights go down, and Hoshi starts dancing to an energetic track, feet planted and arms waving.

“I hope I can be like you guys one day,” she says wistfully, watching her begin, watching the crowd go wild for it. “You’re so lucky.”

“Maybe when you graduate, yeah?” July says, patting her in a more soothing way, this time. “When you don’t have a midnight curfew.”

“Midnight?” She sits up straighter. “But I’ll miss Tiana’s performance!”

“You told your parents you’re having extra lessons, didn’t you? You think they’ll buy that if you’re out any later than midnight? I’ll drive you back between Hoshi and Tiana’s performances.”

She sinks back into her chair, but doesn’t put up much of a fight. July has been generous enough already. “Okay.”

Instead, she plants her elbows on the table and her cups her chin in her hands, focusing on Hoshi’s performance. She’ll enjoy this all she can, then. Her set is a little darker this week, maybe to match her bat-themed look, black leather strapped around her chest with thin black wings protruding from the back that are hooked onto her bracelets, giving her the impression of being in flight. Dark hair and darker contact lenses, black heels and smokey eyes, and Diva wonders how she can pull off these animal concepts with such consistency. Sexy bat probably hasn’t been done this well since Dracula. It works particularly well when she throws her arms up high, wings spanning out, fluttering as she twirls. She couldn’t take her eyes away even if she wanted to.

When Hoshi comes off stage, she bounds up to them with a grin, and starts to pull them out onto the dance floor.

“We need to go, Hosh, she needs to get home.”

“You can spare five minutes of dancing, right? I only just got done!”

July wavers, ever soft-hearted. “Fine—only five minutes—”

“Yes!” Diva exclaims, taking July by the hand and pulling her after Hoshi, jumping in her excitement.

“I’m serious!” July shouts, but without any heat.

“Of course!” Hoshi says, as she starts grinding on her without hesitation.

Tiana joins them not long after, and the four of them draw quite the attention, out on the floor together. Diva can’t get enough of the attention, shakes her hips in time to the music as Hoshi eggs her on. She wonders if this is what having friends is like. If maybe Wonho had been right after all.

He hurriedly wipes his makeup off in the car, struggling to slip out of Minghao’s dress without ripping it in the limited space of the backseat. Exchanging it for his dance clothes, he drops the dress onto the front seat and leans forwards to look at himself in the rear-view mirror, to make sure he has all the makeup off.

“Was it what you wanted?” July asks from the driver’s seat.

“Tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“Yes. It made me so happy, Noona. Not just tonight, but all week—it gave me something to look forward to all week, helped me get through the awful church meetings. Thank you for looking after me.”

She smiles in the dark of the car, face illuminated by the passing streetlights. “Do you still want to do this next week? Doesn’t school start up again on Monday?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I’ll work on my parents. I really want to do this again.”

“Okay. Let me know,” she says. “You have everyone’s number now, right?”

“Yeah. I’ll text you.” The car pulls up to his building, and he shuffles over to the door, grabbing his bag on the way out. “Tell Tiana I’m sorry I missed her set.”

“She’ll have to do it early for you next week,” she says, looking at him in the mirror. “Take care, Channie.”

“You too, Noona,” he says, stepping out of the car and shutting the door after him, waving as she drives away, back towards the club.

He keeps wiping at his face nervously as he climbs the steps, checking in the reflection of his phone that he looks the same as usual, that there’s nothing left that could arouse suspicion. He knows someone will be waiting up to make sure he comes home, and he runs up the last few flights of stairs to make sure he looks appropriately sweaty after his long, pretend dance lesson.

Surely enough, his Dad is there, waiting for his return. Chan shuts the door behind him, turning the key that’s already in the lock, waiting to secure them for the night.

“I thought you’d never be back,” his Dad jokes, switching the TV off and standing up. “How was the lesson?”

“Really good,” he says, wiping his hairline. “I’m really tired though. I’m going straight to sleep, I think.”

“Good idea.” He comes up to him, places a hand on his shoulder. “You look well these days. You should keep working at your dance. It’ll take you places.”

“I will,” he assures him, throwing his dance bag into his room.

“I’m proud of you,” he says, clapping his shoulder once before heading in the direction of his own room. “Working so hard. Keep it up.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Goodnight, Dino.”

“Goodnight,” he says, sliding his door shut behind him. He looks at his untouched bedroom; it’s almost strange to come back here when he feels so different, knowing he can evade his parents like this, knowing only ten minutes ago, he was a very different person. A little thrilling, but a little guilty, too. He tries not to let the bitter taste of his lie stain his night. He thinks about Hoshi complimenting his dress, about July’s performance, about Minghao’s gentle touch applying makeup to his face and his sweet words of encouragement. He curls up in his bed, and focuses on how it felt to be happy.

-

His parents aren’t so willing for him to be out so late on a school night, and he’s scared to push the matter too hard, doesn’t want them to look too much into it and get Junhui into trouble. So his club outings come to an abrupt end when he sends Junhui a miserable text cancelling their plans, and starts to get down to his schoolwork, and sits through the Youth group meetings with increasing discomfort.

Usually, he tries to leave them as quickly as he can, standing up as soon as the lesson finishes and saying his thanks to Hwayoung on the way out. Today, though, she calls after him, keeps him back until the room is empty.

“How did you find the lesson today?” she asks, earnest as ever.

“Good,” he manages to say. She’d talked about spreading the word of God today, about how they as Christians have a duty to ensure everyone can get to heaven, a duty to show others the word of God. He’d imagined someone trying to convert someone like Wonho or Soonyoung, so confident in their identities, and almost laughed to himself in the middle of the talk.

“Great! I think you’ve been listening really well in recent weeks, Chan.”

“Thank you.”

“I won’t keep you for long—I just wanted to give you this.” She digs a booklet out of her bag, and hands it over. It’s advertisement for a camping trip. “I thought you and your parents might be interested in it. Could you take it home and discuss it with them for me, and let me know? If you want to go, I can get you a place, no problem.”

“Thanks,” he says, instead of saying _there’s no way in hell I’m going to any religious event if I can help it, and certainly not a camp_.

“Thanks, Chan. Have a good week!”

He leaves the church with the booklet in hand, starts leafing through it on his walk home. The name sounds familiar—Myeongdong Christian Wellness camp—but he can’t place where from. The booklet offers meetings for all ages, fun group activities, one-on-one sessions with religious leaders and spaces for worshipping God. Cabins available for the winter camp, and open fields for tents in the summer. What he can’t work out is why she gave this to him and not to the other kids in the class. Why separate him—why is he different?

Well, he knows the answer to that, but he didn’t realise anyone else knows, too. She’d wanted him to show this to his parents—have his parents been telling the Church leaders about him? Asking for advice?

His steps slow as he stares at the booklet without really seeing it. They’re still looking to solve the problem—his problem. It’s not going to be ignored like he hoped, swept under the rug until he can leave home. He remembers, now, where he’s heard the name before—he’s read it on forums, accompanied with stories of the gay conversion therapy offered there, under the guise of counselling or healing. He’s heard the horror stories of exorcism attempts, of beatings, of gay men being told they carry devil inside of them.

He stops dead in the street, looking at the booklet. The elders know, then, about him, and Hwayoung is sending him home with his own death warrant, a shiny solution to a messy, hushed-up problem.

He looks around him and finds a nearby trash bin, throwing the booklet in and shoving his hand in after it so that it gets buried at the bottom, and then pulls his hand free again. Stops, punches the metal of the bin. It hurts more than he expected, and tears spring to his eyes as he pulls his hand away, cradling it to his chest. He carries on walking, half-blind with tears, can’t stand to be still, can’t stand to stay here.

He walks right past his apartment building, ignoring the buzzing phone in his pocket.

They’re both there when he arrives home, two hours later than he should’ve.

“Where have you been?” Mom says, immediately.

He shrugs, wrestling his shoe from his foot. He’s been walking around Seoul, on a tearful phone call with Wonho, avoiding coming home, which isn’t an answer they’ll accept.

“We’ve talked about this, Chan! You can’t be out when we don’t know where you are—it’s not safe!”

“Sorry,” he says, quiet.

“What is it, son?” his Dad says.

“What’s what?”

“What’s wrong?” He comes to stand next to his mom. “You can tell us anything. You know that, right?”

He looks up at his father, all open face and gentle demeanour. Alright, then. “Did you know Hwayoung has recommended me to a gay conversion therapy camp?”

“A what?” Mom says.

“Myeongdong Christian Wellness camp. She gave me a booklet for it today.”

“Oh, she did mention that!” she says. “Yes, she said that camp has been very successful with other young people, that it’s a very cleansing experience—”

“It’s a conversion camp, Mom. The people who run it—they hurt people, there’s horrible stories—”

“No, that can’t be right. You must be thinking of something else. Myeongdong is set up to help people.”

He swallows back the dread. “So you did know? About the camp?”

“We think it would help you a lot, Channie,” Mom says softly, taking his face in her hands. “I know you’ve been struggling recently. We can all see it. It’s only for two weeks over the winter break, and who knows, you might even make new friends there—”

“I’m not going,” he says, his voice rising with alarm. “You can’t make me go.”

“Chan,” his Dad says, firmer now. “You’re still young, and you know we only want what’s best for you—”

“No, you don’t!” He registers the tears clinging to his eyelashes. “You want what’s best for you! You want me to be someone I’m not!”

“Chan!” his Mom shouts, startled by his volume. “This is exactly why you need to go! You’ve been so different lately!”

“While you’re under our roof, you’ll do what we ask of you,” his Dad says steadily. “I’m sorry, Chan. It won’t be as bad as you think.”

“Fine,” he says, backing up towards the door again. “I’ll get out from under your roof, then.”

“What?” his Mom steps towards him as he steps back.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” his Dad says, like Chan isn’t halfway through the front door, completely serious.

“Let me know when you change your mind,” he says, stepping outside and slamming the door behind him, shoes in hand. He starts running towards the elevator, heart thumping. When he’s most of the way down the hallway, the door opens again.

“Chan!” his Mom calls, but he doesn’t turn around, only slams the ground floor button and lets the doors close. The elevator starts its descent to the ground floor.

He wrestles his shoes back on, and as soon as the elevator doors open, he runs.


	2. Chapter 2

He keeps going until he’s too tired to run anymore, until he finds himself on a street of fast food chains, somewhere he doesn’t recognise. The light from the restaurants brightens up the road, though, a little shield from the night sky. He can’t escape the October cold, though; he didn’t stop for his coat, or his wallet, or anything at all. All he has is his phone, nearly out of charge.

So he sits in the dim doorway of a closed store, puts his head in his hands, and tries to think without crying again. He has to go somewhere, but where? He knows Wonho would have him, but he’s all the way in Busan, and he doesn’t have the money for a train ticket there. He wants to call him, to cry and be comforted and have a solution offered, but he needs to be practical. He needs to go somewhere before it gets any later, before his phone dies completely.

He opens up his contacts and calls Junhui. The phone, rings, and rings, and rings, and rings. No answer. His breath hitches, and he ends the call, looking at the few other names in his phone. He bites at his lip, not sure if he has any right to call Minghao or Soonyoung, especially about something like this. Maybe it’s better to find a homeless shelter—but they might not want him there, not when he has parents willing to take him in. He’s the one unwilling to pay the price of living with them.

His phone battery decreases further, and he hits Soonyoung’s name on instinct, out of desperate indecision. It rings, and rings, and then he hears a voice, a familiar _Hello?_

“Hyung?” he says, voice high.

“Channie!” he replies. “To what do I owe the pleasure? Are you coming out with us again this week?”

“Hyung…” he says, and the waterworks are starting up again, clogging up his eyes and his nose and his throat, making it hard to speak.

“Chan?” Soonyoung says, playful pretence dropped. “What is it? Are you okay?”

He tries to reign in his breath, steady himself enough to speak, and he practically feel Soonyoung’s anxious impatience coming through the line. “N—no… my parents… I can’t go home…”

“Chan, what happened?”

He can’t get any more out, just sobs down the line, covering his eyes with his hands and curling into himself, trying desperately to calm himself down.

“Okay, it’s okay—where are you?”

“I—I don’t know, I just ran, I just…it’s a street of food places…there’s a McDonalds, and a Lotteria, and a Boonsta…”

“Is there a Burger King opposite the Boonsta?”

“Um…yeah.”

“I know where you are. Don’t move, okay? I’m coming to pick you up.”

He pauses a moment, wondering if this is okay, if he should let Soonyoung come for him. It’s not like he has much other choice. “Okay,” he says, sniffling.

He’s not sure how much time passes while he waits there. He sits still, dead phone loose in his grip, and leans against the wall beside him, watching people pass. There’s a weird distance between his mind his body, and from his body to the street he’s in. People pass, and they don’t seem real. He can’t feel his hands.

“Hey,” a voice says, and Chan jolts, looks to where Soonyoung is coming to sit beside him. “I found you.”

“Hi,” he says, blinking and wiping his bleary eyes. “Thank you for coming.”

“It’s okay,” he says. “I’m guessing you tried Junhui first?”

He nods.

“He’ll be teaching a class tonight.”

“Shit, were you opening the club? I’m sorry, I didn’t even think—”

“It’s okay,” Soonyoung says, shaking his head. “The Dive isn’t open on Mondays; we’ve got all the time in the world. Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

He looks away, rubs his hands along his thighs to distract himself. “My parents want to send me to a gay conversion camp.”

Soonyoung takes in a sharp breath, looking away. “Jesus.”

“Yeah,” he says, feeling the hysterical urge to laugh. “They’ve been adamant I keep going to Church. I guess they thought it would save me. But it didn’t, so now they want to send me there instead.” He pauses, closes his eyes. “I told them that they hurt people there. But they told me I was wrong, and that I need to go. Guess they must really think I’m that bad, huh.”

Soonyoung wraps his arms around his shoulders in an awkward, but sincere, side hug. “You’re not bad, Channie. Not at all. I’m really sorry this has happened to you.”

He leans into him, resting his head on his shoulder. “Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault. It’s just how they are.”

“But it’s shit.”

He shrugs. “They love me. They think they’re helping me.”

“They don’t love you if they want to change you.”

Chan shakes his head. “They want to change me because they love me. They’re trying to help, in their own, fucked up way.”

Soonyoung’s hand comes up to stroke his hair. “Do you want to come back to mine?”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s no problem,” he says, patting Chan’s back comfortingly. “I would rather you be safe with me than anywhere else.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

Soonyoung helps him stand and puts a hand to his back to guide him towards his car. He’s a little wobbly on his feet at first, so he leans into the touch, grateful.

He’s sat on Soonyoung’s couch and making his way through a bowl of noodles when his phone comes back to life, steadily charging on one of Soonyoung’s ports. It’s alive for no less than three minutes before it starts vibrating across the table, _Mom _flashing across the screen.

“You don’t have to answer, you know,” Soonyoung says.

He looks at it for a minute, thinks about answering. The phone stops ringing. Then starts again.

He puts down his noodles and picks up the phone, swiping to answer.

“Chan?” his mom says. “Are you there?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, baby, please come home now, we’ve been so worried. I know you’re angry, but we can sort this out, okay?”

“I can’t,” he whispers, cradling the phone by his ear in two hands.

“You can, you can’t stay out on the streets on your own—”

“I can’t come home.”

“Why not?” she asks, desperate.

“Because I don’t feel safe at home,” he says, and it makes him feel a little ill, the absolute honesty coming out of his mouth. “I’m going to stay with my friend tonight,” he says, looking up at Soonyoung questioningly. Soonyoung nods immediately, like he needn’t have even asked.

“What friend? Who? Channie, please don’t do this, just come back—”

“I’m not,” he says, firmer this time, and is met with silence at the other end of the line. “I’m not coming back. Goodnight, Mom,” he says.

“Chan—” she tries again, and he ends the call. Then, after staring at the screen for a few seconds, switches off his phone, and lets it clatter back onto the table. He picks up his noodles again and continues eating, ignoring his stinging eyes.

“Well done,” Soonyoung says, reaching out to rub his back.

“Sorry for presuming—”

“Don’t even say it,” Soonyoung warns. “You can stay here as long as you need.”

“Thank you,” he says, digging at the bowl aimlessly. “Can I use your shower? I feel gross.”

“Sure. Let me find you a towel, and some spare clothes. Finish your noodles, yeah?”

He wakes up slowly, information filtering in as he tries to work out why this doesn’t feel like a normal Tuesday morning, why his alarm isn’t the thing cutting through his sleep. There’s a noise somewhere behind him, and it takes a moment for him to recognise it as the sound of Junhui’s voice; then he registers the feel of Soonyoung’s soft sofa underneath him, spare pillows under his head, and the awful realisation that yesterday had been real.

“It’s okay, I can manage,” Junhui is saying. He must be standing in Soonyoung’s open kitchen, behind the couch he’s been sleeping on.

“You know it’s too much,” Soonyoung argues, voice hushed. “You already have Minghao, and I know you’re barely making enough money between you—”

“I’m an adult, these days,” comes Minghao’s voice, serious and concerned. “I look after Junhui more than he looks after me. We can take care of Chan.”

“Even if you could, how do you think that would go down at Junhui’s workplace?” Soonyoung reasons. “They aren’t going to like him harbouring one of his underage students, no matter how good the reason is, and you can’t afford to lose that job. If Chan is happy to stay with me, he can stay as long as he wants.”

“You don’t have to,” Chan says, voice rough from sleep, sitting up on the sofa to look over the back of it. The three of them are standing in the kitchen, now looking over at him, each holding various hot drinks, and in Soonyoung’s case, still wearing pyjamas. “I’ll figure something out.”

“Nope,” Soonyoung says brightly. “Sorry, but you can stay here as long as you want, and you can’t make me take that offer off the table.”

Junhui is already walking around the couch to come and sit by him, pulling him into a hug. “I’m so sorry I didn’t pick up last night, Channie. I’m really sorry this has happened.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says into Junhui’s shoulder.

Minghao comes to stand behind him, stroking the back of his neck. “Are you doing okay?”

“I’m as good as I can be,” he says, wiping sleep out of his eyes. “Just feel a bit lost.”

“Yeah,” Minghao says, with a sad smile. “I know what you mean.”

“We were talking about what you’re going to do next,” Soonyoung says, coming to sit on the chair opposite him. “You can stay with me, you know. Indefinitely. You don’t have to go home.”

“I don’t want to go home,” he says. He knows that much.

“That’s fine, but you can’t drop out of school, and you can’t live here without any belongings. We need to go back to your house and pick up some of your stuff.”

He sighs, drops his head.

“Okay, let him eat breakfast first, Hyung,” Minghao says, moving back into the kitchen. “What do you want, Channie? Ramyeon? Cereal? Soonyoung’s leftover pizza?”

“The pizza, please,” he says shifting to get up and help him, but Jun keeps him planted to the sofa.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” he asks Soonyoung. “To go back there?”

“What else is he going to do? Go to school in his pyjamas?”

“My parents will be out at work during the day,” Chan says, “and I have a key. If we get in and out before this evening, we don’t even need to meet them.”

Soonyoung gestures to him, happy with the plan. “We’ll do that, then. You can rest up this morning. We’ll go after lunch.”

“So you’re really not going back home?” Junhui says, wide-eyed and anxious.

“I can’t,” he says. “I really can’t.”

“You don’t have to,” Minghao says, reappearing with the pizza. “We’ll take care of you.”

“Is that even legal?” Junhui says, anxious. “To leave home at his age?”

“He can get away with it as long as his parents don’t get the authorities involved,” Minghao says. “I did, didn’t I?”

“I don’t know what they’ll do,” Chan says, looking down at his cold pizza. “As long as I’m in contact with them and they know I’m safe, maybe they won’t force me to come back. I don’t know. I used to know them so well, but recently…” he trails off, pressing his lips together.

“We’ll work it out as we go,” Soonyoung says, and it’s grounding, to hear him sound so confident, when Chan feels like he could all fall apart any second. “Let’s take it step by step. First step is for you to finish your pizza.”

He brings a slice to his mouth and chews obediently. When he looks up, Soonyoung is smiling at him so brightly, like Chan is doing something much more momentous than eating his breakfast.

“Will you stay here?” he asks, when Soonyoung pulls up to his apartment building, grey and looming.

“In the car?”

“Yeah. In case someone is home. I don’t want you to meet them.”

Soonyoung looks at him, mouth slightly parted. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. All I’m getting is clothes and stuff, anyway. I won’t be long.”

“Okay. If you’re not down in twenty minutes I’m coming in, though.”

“Sure,” he says. “See you in nineteen minutes.”

Soonyoung gives him a playful salute as he leaves the car, jogging up to his apartment and avoiding all eye contact with passing residents; everyone on their floor must’ve heard the argument with his parents last night. He tries the door—locked, a good sign no one is home—before he puts the key in the door and enters, finding the place empty and quiet. Shuts the door behind him, and moves into his bedroom, not stopping to look around.

His room is exactly as he left it, so he doesn’t hesitate to pull his rucksack out from under his bed and his dance bag from the corner of the room, and flings open his wardrobe. Starts taking out the clothes and throwing them in deftly, more concerned with speed than organisation. He does the same with other essentials; his charger, his schoolbooks, his toothbrush and deodorant. With single-minded focus, he packs up his life into two bags, yellow dress and all.

He finishes up and zips the bags shut, anxious to leave, figures that anything leftover will have to stay here. Picks up the bags, leaves his room, but stops at the front door.

He should get his birth certificate. He doesn’t know when he’ll be back here, doesn’t know if his parents will give him access to his documents if he refuses to come home. He needs to look after himself, now, and he needs control of his own documents. He knows where it is—knows his Dad keeps organised files for them all in the box under the bed. It wouldn’t take long to find it.

He drops the bags by the door and turns around, headed towards his parents’ bedroom. The box is there, organised and neat, and sure enough, he finds the folder with his birth certificate in in under a minute. There’s guilt weighing down his gut as he slides the certificate out, shuts the box and pushes it back under the bed again, but he tries to reason against it. It’s his own document, after all. He’ll take good care of it.

As he’s standing up, the sound of the front door opening rings through the apartment.

“Jungmin?” his Mom calls. “Are you home already?” The sound of her movement halts—she’s probably walked right into his bags. “Chan?”

He closes his eyes and lets out a sigh. He can hear his Mom is walking across the apartment, and he walks towards the door of the bedroom to meet her halfway.

“Chan!” she exclaims when he appears in the doorway, pulling him into a hug, tight and sudden. “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry about our argument last night—I don’t want to fight with you.”

“I am too,” he says, hugging her back.

“Listen, you don’t have to go to Myeongdong,” she says, pulling out of the hug to look him in the face. They’ve been a similar height ever since his growth spurt at the beginning of the year. “If you feel this badly about it, it clearly won’t help you. We can compromise on this!”

“It’s not just Myeongdong,” he says, prising his arms from her grip on him. “I’ve wanted to quit Church for a long time, and you know it—”

“Oh, baby, please not this again—”

“No,” he says, finally getting free of her grip and going around her, back towards the door. “I need to leave. I really need to. I’m going to stay with my friend for a while, and you can think about whether you can overcome some of your beliefs for me—” he picks up his bags and pulls the door open, “—and maybe then we can compromise. Until then...”

“Dino,” his Mom says, and her voice breaks on the nickname, but he keeps backing out through the open door.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’ll see you soon.”

He shuts the door behind him, and this time, it doesn’t open again. There’s a soft thud on the other side, like his Mom has put her forehead against the door.

It doesn’t make him stop.

He puts his clothes away slowly, in one of Soonyoung’s spare drawers. The repetitive movement is relaxing.

“So, I’ve got to open the club tonight,” Soonyoung says, coming into the bedroom. “I usually don’t get back until the early hours of the morning—I can trust you to be home alone, right? I don’t have to lock my liquor up or anything?”

“No, no,” he says, quickly. He’d never dream of stealing from Soonyoung, especially after all his kindness. “You don’t have to worry.”

“And you’re going to go to sleep, right?” he says, with a look.

“I could always come with you?” he asks, hopefully. “I could do with a night out.”

“Not on a school night,” Soonyoung says. “Ask me again on Friday.”

“About that. I think I need to drop out of school.”

“You what?” Soonyoung says, crouching down to be on his level. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

“I don’t have anything to pay you,” he says. “You’re giving me a place to sleep and food to eat and water and heat and all these things you pay for, so I need to pay you some rent for it. But I don’t have any money. If I drop out and get a job—”

“No, no,” Soonyoung shakes his head quickly. “Hey, okay. Listen. I’ve got one ground rule for you while you stay with me. It’s the only thing I’m going to ask from you.”

He nods his head, turning to give him his full attention.

“You finish school,” he says, taking Chan’s hands in his. “Even if it’s hard, even if you think it’s pointless. I don’t care about the money. I want you to have all the same opportunities as everyone else.”

“But—”

“No buts!” he says, putting a finger to Chan’s lips. “No jobs, no clubbing on a school night, and no arguing with me on this one. You finish school, okay? With the best grades you can. When you need a notepad, a new bag, anything, like that, you ask me for it. This is my only rule.”

He hesitates. “Hyung—”

“Do you agree to my terms?” Soonyoung says, squeezing Chan’s hands in his own. “I think they’re fair.”

Chan leans in to hug him, pulling his hands away so that he can loop his arms around Soonyoung’s neck. “You’re too kind.”

“Nah,” he says, accepting the hug with a warm hold. “I just want you to do your best.”

“Thank—”

“Also!” he says quickly. “No more thank yous! Not for staying here, at least. My home is your home, now,” he says, standing up and stretching. “Which reminds me. This is a one-bedroom apartment, and until we can get you your own bed to cram in somewhere, we need to sort out sleeping arrangements. You can’t sleep on the sofa every night.” He looks over at his own double bed, rumpled and messy. “The Dive is open Tuesdays to Saturdays, and I don’t go to sleep until the sun is rising on those days, so you can take my bed—”

“Oh, no, Hyung—”

“No really, it makes sense! By the time I get back here and take off the outfit and get myself some food, you’ll be waking up for school. It’s a rotating system. They do it in some parts of the world, you know.”

“But it’s your bed—” he protests, weakly.

“And it’s your back if you sleep on that sofa every day,” he says. “Junhui would never forgive me for ruining his best dancer’s joints.”

Chan can’t help but smile a little at that, a small quirk of the lips.

“That’s what I like to see,” Soonyoung grins, sticking out a hand. “So, do we have a deal?”

Chan looks at his offered palm, hesitant.

“Come on,” Soonyoung teases, wiggling his fingers. “You know it makes sense.”

He gives a defeated smile and reaches out to clasp Soonyoung’s hand, shaking it in agreement.

“Okay!” he shouts, delighted. “That’s what I’m talking about! We’re in business, baby!”

Chan watches Hoshi get ready, strangely calm and still while she puts her makeup on, and it’s relaxing. It takes a while, a lot longer than he’s ever taken trying to do his own, and it’s somewhat educational to see. He’ll try doing his eyebrows like that next time.

“Are you going to be okay?” she asks for the third time, gathering up her bag.

“I’m fine!” he says, again. “Really, I’m just going to go to bed.”

“You don’t need me to tuck you in or anything?”

Chan flushes a little before he catches teasing glint in her eye.

“No!” he whines, waving his hands, ushering her towards the door. “Go! I’ll see you in the morning!”

“Goodnight!” Hoshi says, waving before she shuts the front door behind her.

He does go to bed, like he’d promised. It’s hard to sleep, though. The bed smells different to his own, is bigger and emptier, and it’s hard to think of anything but the unfamiliarity of it all, the emptiness of this flat, the distance he is from home. His Mom had texted him again earlier, asking him to come home, at least until school finishes; in his reply, he’d told her that he has his uniform and will be attending school as usual. That she needn’t worry.

He checks his phone. No reply. He rolls over in bed, staring at Soonyoung’s ceiling, and tries not to feel alone.

He doesn’t tell anyone at school about leaving home. He doesn’t want the attention, and there’s no one he would confide in anyway, no one he’s close enough to that he would even consider it.

Everyone, of course, finds out anyway, because it’s high school, and nothing is sacred to the gossip of high school locker rooms. It’s the stares that tip him off, the whispers in the lunch queue, the way the back of his neck prickles when he sits at the front of Geography.

It makes school more uncomfortable and miserable than it had been before. Before, he could slip under the radar, walk around unnoticed. Now his Math teacher actually starts remembering his name, and some of the older students eye him as he sits in the library, and his seat partner in Literature starts talking to him, even though he’d barely acknowledged his existence before.

“Right, Chan?”

“Hm?” he says, looking up.

“I said, it’s not like you have to live with your parents at our age,” Jungseok says, leering into his space. “Sehun said he might go and live with his Grandma instead.”

He looks at him for a second, not sure what response he’s looking for. “Sure,” he says, turning back to his essay.

“Don’t you live with your Grandma now?”

He doesn’t bother looking up this time. “Does it matter?”

“Yeah. You must live somewhere, since you ran away from home.”

“Don’t think it’s any of your business,” he mutters. He can’t process the words on the page.

“What?” Jungseok says, leaning into his space.

He doesn’t reply.

“Hey,” Jungseok says, jostling him. “It’s rude to ignore people.”

He needs to get some air.

“Teacher, can I go to the bathroom?”

The teacher takes a glance at him and nods. He wonders if his parents have told the school, if the information is being passed around as gossip in the staff room too. If the teachers who don’t even teach him now know his name.

He scrapes his chair back immediately, and leaves the class, feeling thirty sets of eyes on his back. Resists the urge to run down the corridor and bursts into the thankfully empty bathroom. Tries to steady his breath. He takes a minute to splash water onto his face, then goes and locks himself in a cubicle. Sits on the toilet seat, puts his head in his hands.

It’s not like there’s anything to do but get through it. He’d promised Soonyoung he’d stay, and he will. The gossip can’t last forever, anyway—a few weeks at most, and then everyone will move on. He sits there and breathes, in and out. It’ll be okay.

When he makes his way back into the classroom, he stops short. There’s water drenching his desk, dripping down onto the chair—it’s completely soaked through his notebook, ruining his essay.

The school bell rings, and everyone stands. “Sorry,” Jungseok says, with a smirk. “Knocked over your bottle.”

He pushes past him, jostling him on his way out. Chan is left there, staring at his desk, the puddle growing on his seat and dripping onto the floor.

“Chan?” the Teacher says, once the classroom is clear of all the students but him, holding his sodden notebook between two fingers. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” he says, dumping it in the trash. “Do you have any tissues? I’ll wipe this up.”

“Hyung,” he says that evening, whilst watching Soonyoung sit through his two-hour makeup process.

“Channie,” Soonyoung says, focusing on dabbing his face with a beauty blender.

“It’s Friday.”

“That it is,” he agrees, looking at him in the reflection of the mirror.

“You said to ask you again on Friday. If I can come to the club with you.”

Soonyoung sits back, looking over at Chan, who’s laid out on his bed. “I was half joking.”

“Only half?”

Soonyoung raises a glued-down eyebrow at him.

“Hyung, please,” he says, clasping his hands together. “This has been—no exaggeration—the worst week of my life. And when you leave, it’s not like I sleep well anyway. I just toss and turn until I get a hour or two of sleep, and then I wake up again. I’d be much happier at the club with you! I think it would really help me unwind.” He rolls over onto his back, pouting at him. “Please?”

“Hey, don’t use those eyes on me,” Soonyoung huffs.

“I really want to see Junhui again, too,” he says, widening his eyes further. “I miss him.”

“You saw him at your lesson on Wednesday.”

“It’s been too long,” he says despondently.

“Fine!” Soonyoung says. “God, I’m weak. Go and pick out an outfit, yeah?”

“Really?” he says, springing up. “One of yours?”

“What else are you going to wear? I’ve seen your clothes collection. I wasn’t inspired.”

“Are you forgetting I come from a seriously religious household? Once time, my Mom gave me a lecture about decency because I was wearing a V-neck.”

Soonyoung shudders. “Well, she’s has a little sense at least. You better not have brought any V-necks into my flat.”

“You know what I mean!” Chan laughs, getting up off the bed and opening Soonyoung’s wonderful, big wardrobe. It’s like looking in at Minghao’s for the first time, but better, with more colours and an abundance of animal print.

“Wait, actually,” Soonyoung says, putting down the blender and ducking under his bed. “I have in here, somewhere—yes!” He pulls out a box, swipes away some of the dust, and opens it up to reveal a pile of clothing inside. “This is the stuff I used to wear when I was starting out, before I committed to the animal theme. I don’t wear it anymore. It’s probably all too small for me now, anyway.” He pushes it towards Chan without hesitation. “You can still pick from the wardrobe, but these are yours, if you want them.”

“Really?” He grasps the box in both hands, peering into it.

“Sure,” Soonyoung says, turning back to the mirror. “You’ll make more use of them than me. Consider it the start of your collection.”

He immediately delves into the pile of soft, worn clothing in the box. “Thanks, Hyung.” He knows this small pile is nothing to him, with all his clothes and all his freedom, but he’s touched that Soonyoung would give him something so precious.

“No problem, Channie.”

“What sort of thing do you think suits me?” he asks, pulling out a lacy number, tight and sheer.

“What do you like?”

“I like all of them,” he says, holding up a red jumpsuit, adorned with material that criss-crosses the chest. “It’s just fun to wear different outfits, isn’t it?”

“That’s the idea,” Soonyoung says brightly. “There’s a scaly dress in there that would suit you. You are Diva Saur, after all.”

He pulls out a purple miniskirt, what looks like a two-piece bikini, and a blue, frilly thing, before he reaches the desired bodycon dress, deep green and patterned with scales.

“This fits with your animal thing,” he says, holding it up. “Why put it away?”

“It was the first dress I ever bought,” Soonyoung says, fond. “It’s too small for me now. There are some wigs in the drawer under my wardrobe—go and try it on! And take a breast form!”

“A what?”

“The things in the bottom that look like bras. They’ll give you more shape.”

He picks one up. It’s black and lacey and has firm cups in the front. “Oh, huh. So this is how you do it.”

“I use silicone boobs now, but those are handy too. Come and show me when you’re done.”

He heads to the bathroom and starts taking his clothes off, staring the dress down nervously—he’s never been in anything this small before. He struggles with the breast form for a minute before getting it settled on his chest, then pulls the dress on over his head, wiggles and shakes it into place, anxious not to tear it. Turns around to face the mirror, and—oh. He looks good. Really good. The material feels nice, clinging to him in all the right places. It’s short, though, and his boxers peek out from under the hem.

“Hyung?” he shouts.

“Yeah?”

“What do you do about your dick?”

He can hear laughter echoing around the apartment, then the sound of Soonyoung getting up. After a minute, the bathroom door opens, Soonyoung peeking in and throwing him something skin-coloured. He catches it; it’s underwear.

“Tuck it in!” he says, grinning.

“My dick?” he asks incredulously.

“Yep!” he says, shutting the bathroom door again. “The dress looks great, by the way!” he shouts through the door as an afterthought.

Chan looks down at the underwear, and then back up at his reflection. Here goes nothing.

“Hyung, how do you do this?” he says, holding the liquid eyeliner. He has smudges on the sides of his fingers and the corner of his eye, his attempt at applying it disastrous, a big smudge across his eyelid.

“Hey,” Soonyoung says, glancing over as he lays out fluffy white pieces of clothing on the bed. Today is a bunny theme, it seems. “I know we’re going for the dinosaur look, but you don’t need to look like you died with them.”

“I’m not trying to!” he complains. “How do you do it? It’s so hard!”

“Okay, come here,” he says, abandoning the wardrobe to kneel down beside him. “First, put this over you so you don’t get makeup on your outfit. For future reference, it’s easier to do makeup before you get dressed.” He pulls a towel over him, then reaches for the eyeliner. “It does take a lot of practise, and a steady hand, but if you rest your hand on your face like this—” he demonstrates on himself, putting the heel of his hand against his cheek, “—it’ll steady you. You should do eyeshadow first, though. Put the eyeliner on top.”

“Ah, okay,” Chan says, picking up a palette that he thinks is eyeshadow. “What colours would go well with this dress?”

“It’s up to you,” Soonyoung says, moving away again. “It’s your art. You can do what you like.”

He goes for the ebony shade, applies a little on his lids and carefully brushes it out. It’s nice, makes his eyes look sharp, but he doesn’t want the look to be too dark, and applies a little sage green on top of it. The feeling of the brush on his eyelids is gentle, relaxing. He likes it a lot.

“Can you do the eyeliner?” he says, turning to Soonyoung. He’s in his fluffy white crop top now, with matching booty shorts, clipping cute little bunny ears into his wig. “Oh, wow. You look really good, Noona!”

“Thank you,” Hoshi sings, grinning. “You too scared to try the eyeliner again?”

“I’ll practise at it,” he promises. “I don’t want to ruin what I’ve done so far.”

Hoshi comes and sits next to him, legs crossed. “Okay. Come here.”

Chan passes over the eyeliner and closes his eyes, waiting. A few seconds later, he feels Hoshi’s gentle touch on his face, holding him still while the eyeliner brush tickles him. He can feel the gentle puffs of her breath on his face, and he restrains the urge to wrinkle his nose and giggle.

“Stay still,” Hoshi murmurs, moving to the other eyelid. “Unless you want two black eyes?”

“No,” Chan murmurs back, smiling.

She works rhythmically, and the touch is nice. The silence between them is comfortable as she focuses on her work. “Okay, done,” she says, a minute later, leaning back. Chan flutters open his eyes and looks at himself in the mirror, all defined cheekbones and glossy lips, now complete with eye makeup. “Do you want to put mascara on and be done? We’ve really got to get going soon.”

“Yeah,” he says, picking up the mascara. “Thank you for helping me.”

“Anytime,” Hoshi says, giving him playful finger guns.

They arrive a little before opening time so that Hoshi can open the club and sort out the staff. With no one here but the two of them and a few bar staff, the place is strangely empty and quiet. Light, too. She didn’t realise how big it is when it’s not distorted by spotlights and dark corners.

She waits in a booth while Hoshi does her rounds of the place, helps the bar staff get set up and does a last wipe down of some of the tables. The DJ comes in, and Diva watches from a distance as he sets up his soundboard, starts pumping the place with music. It doesn’t take long for people to come in, after that—awkward at first, sitting at the bar and at tables as they wait for more people to arrive—then they come in thick and fast, already tipsy and ready to dance, greeting Hoshi and anticipating her performance.

Tiana and July come in later, after July has finished teaching her class, when the place is dark and full and Hoshi has started looking out for them anxiously.

“You’re here!” she exclaims, when they come out of nowhere to join them on the dance floor, July sneaking up to tickle Diva’s sides. She squeals, nearly falls over, and then whines at her for it.

“You look beautiful,” Tiana tells her, which was more of the reaction she was hoping for.

“Thank you!” she says, looking pointedly at July.

“Sorry we’re a little late,” July says, holding Hoshi’s arm consolingly. “You can go and prepare!”

Hoshi nods her thanks. “Are you still up for performing later?”

“Of course.”

“See you, then.” Hoshi gives them salute before disappearing into the crowd.

“Was she waiting to pass me off this whole time?” Diva asks, put out. “You guys don’t have to be with me every second, you know. I’m sure I could handle five minutes on my own.”

July pulls her closer to dance, puts an arm around the back of her neck. “We have a deal, and we’re sticking to it.”

“It’s only because we love you,” Tiana adds, with a smile. “You want to sit? She’ll be out to perform soon.”

As it turns out, the Pink Dive is popular tonight, and there’s no empty tables left. There is, however, a big booth with only two boys sat in it, talking to each other.

“Is it okay if we sit here?” Tiana asks, over the music.

“Yes, yes!” one of them says, enthusiastically. “Of course!”

“Great,” Tiana says, guiding Diva into the booth with a gentle hand, July sliding in after her. “I have to go and present Hoshi—I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Do you guys work here?” the other boy asks, glancing over at Tiana heading to the stage.

“They do,” Diva replies, gesturing to July beside her. “I’m only here for fun.”

“Are you performing tonight?” the first boy asks July as Tiana starts gathering attention up on the stage. Diva can see he has a leaflet in his grasp, and she reaches for it gently, flattens it out.

“Yes,” July replies, quietly. “I’m on last tonight.”

“There,” Diva says, pointing to July’s name on the leaflet. “And that girl was Tiana, and anytime now, we should be getting…”

Tiana’s gentle voice booms through the speakers. “And now, for the wonderful, beautiful, bunny Hoshi!”

“There she is,” Diva says with a smile, turning to face the show.

“And who are you?” the boy asks, as Hoshi struts onto the stage.

She’s surprised by his interest, and a little touched, too. “Diva!” she says, smiling through the word, this flashy, funny name. This identity she has, this second life.

“I’m Seokmin!” he says, smiling, and the two shake hands happily. “And that’s Joshua!”

Joshua doesn’t respond, caught up in open-mouthed staring at Hoshi, who’s grabbing her crotch and lowering herself slowly to her knees to the rhythm of the music.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she laughs, and Seokmin beams at her before turning to watch the performance too.

It’s not hard to get lost in a Hoshi performance. Tiana rejoins them and July goes to get drinks, mostly without her noticing—everything kind of merges into background noise while she’s dancing, moving like water, occasionally singing, too. It makes her want to watch forever, or maybe get up and join her, or maybe long for her own stage, the opportunity to be half as good. It makes her miss dance class, and during the interval, she realises something.

“Unnie,” she says, leaning into July’s side. “This week was my last dance lesson, wasn’t it?”

July stares for a second, processing the question. “Was it?” she says, turning her head to talk into Diva’s ear. “Are you thinking of quitting?”

“I don’t want to quit. But I can’t pay you for them.”

“Are you still in contact with your parents?”

“A little. I’ve been texting my Mom.”

July nods. “Your parents sent over a payment on Wednesday. Enough money to cover your lessons until the end of the year.”

She stills. “Really?”

“Yeah,” July says kindly. “Really.”

“Oh.” Up on stage, Hoshi is starting another song.

“You can still fix this with them, you know,” July says, under the cover of the music. “It’s not over yet.”

“Yeah,” she says, looking down at the table. “I know.”

When Hoshi comes off stage, it’s something of a spectacle. People keep stopping her as she passes, to try and talk with or praise her, some attempting to hand her more tips. It’s only when Tiana begins her set does the attention die down, and Hoshi can make it back to their table, alive and pumped up with the adrenaline.

“Amazing as always!” Diva calls, and Hoshi beams at her.

“Yeah, seriously,” Joshua says, looking up at her with his big eyes as she slips into the booth next to him. “You’re incredible.”

“I know,” she says with a wink, picking up Tiana’s abandoned drink to down it in one.

The night goes on. They dance together again after Tiana’s set, order some responsible sodas whilst Seokmin and Joshua take shots. July goes up on stage, and it makes Diva realise this is the latest she’s ever been out, well into the early hours of the morning, having fun with friends. They applaud for her when she’s done, and get out on the dance floor again, even though her feet hurt, even though she’s starting to get dizzy with the late hour. It doesn’t matter; it’s therapeutic, being able to put her week behind her and think only about mirroring Tiana, vibing to the bass, shouting out popular song lyrics with Seokmin.

Hoshi breaks off to dance with Joshua at some point, and when Diva catches sight of them again it’s to see them making out on the middle of the dance floor, enthusiastic and shameless. It takes her aback for a second, and then she laughs—she supposes if anyone would do that, it would be Hoshi. In her own club. With a boy she’s just met.

“Hey,” she shouts over the music to July. “If those two get any more handsy, can I come and sleep at yours?”

July looks at where she’s gesturing, and then laughs too. “Don’t worry, she’s responsible when she needs to be. She won’t forget you.”

Sure enough, Hoshi reappears not long later, dragging Josh behind her. “It’s time to close up,” she says. “I’m going to tell the DJ to shut it off. It’s been nice to meet you,” she says to Seokmin, but mostly Josh, who has an arm around her waist. “I hope I’ll see you both another night.”

“We’ll be back,” Joshua promises, smiling wide, eyes trained on Hoshi’s mouth.

Seokmin, who’s way passed drunk, laughs like Josh has said something hilarious, and nearly falls over with the force of it.

“I think you need to get him home!” Diva pipes up, putting a hand on his arm supportively.

“Yeah, I will,” Joshua says, laughing and taking Seokmin from her. “Goodnight!”

They chorus a friendly goodbye and start rounding up the rest of the patrons. The music cuts out, and the dance floor clears, the bar staff already packed up and ready to go home.

“Oh, it’s been a good night,” Hoshi says, flushed and pleased, once she’s locked everything up and checked the toilets for damage. “Hasn’t it?”

“Definitely,” Diva laughs, leaning into her as they leave the club. They wave goodbye to July and Tiana, and Diva swears she doesn’t feel tired, but as soon as she sits in Hoshi’s passenger seat, she’s asleep.

-

October passes, and November comes, cold and unforgiving. He’s regularly coming to the Dive on Fridays, and sometimes Saturdays too, depending on how much homework he has. They see Joshua and Seokmin a lot—especially Joshua, who starts turning up at Soonyoung’s apartment, too. He’s drinking coffee on his couch when Chan gets home from school, or they pass each other in the doorway, him rushing out to get to his lectures on time. He’s usually sporting hickeys on his neck or, on one occasion when Chan had failed to announce his arrival loud enough, Soonyoung’s hands down his pants. He adjusts. Soonyoung is an adult, and though this is his apartment and he can do what he likes, he’s anxious to be a responsible around Chan, so he does his best to keep things like that out of his way.

Talk at school dies down, but doesn’t go away completely. He’s still subject to questions he doesn’t want to answer, to attention he doesn’t know what to do with, and, one day, fresh contact from an old face.

“Hey,” Yewon says, sitting opposite him at the dinner table.

“Hey,” he says, blinking once before looking towards the table she usually sits at. The rest of her friends are there, staring at them, until he he looks their way, and they all look back down at their meals in unison.

“I know we haven’t spoken in a few years,” Yewon says, biting her lip. “But I heard that you ran away from home.”

“Yeah,” he says, picking at his cold lunch.

“I don’t want to interrogate you about it or anything. God knows you’ve probably had enough of it from everyone else. I just wanted to tell you that if you need something, you can ask me. And…I hope you’re doing okay.” She nods, mostly to herself.

He smiles, and something warm and aching stirs in his chest. “Thanks, Yewon.”

“I hope you can figure things out soon,” she says, smiling at him before standing up to make her way back to her table.

Some people are glancing his way, intrigued by the disturbance in the rigid lunch table structure. He gets up to throw his food away and leave, not wanting anyone else to follow Yewon’s example.

“Lee Chan?” a voice at the lunch hall doorway says, stopping him in his tracks.

He looks up. It’s one of the student ambassadors, on an errand from a teacher, by the look of the hall pass around her neck. “You’re wanted in the principal’s office.”

He blinks at her, wondering if this is a prank. But she’s an older student, well behaved—there’s no reason for her to lie to him. She turns around to head towards the principal’s office, and he supposes he should follow after her.

She knocks on the door when they arrive, and when the responding call comes, she opens the door for him, gesturing for him to go in.

“Ah, Jiwoo, thank you,” the principal says. Chan passes her in the doorway, rounds it to see the office in front of him—the principal sat behind his desk, and his dad, sat in one of the chairs in front of it.

His heart skips a beat at the sight. He hasn’t seen or spoken to his dad in two months—he and his mom still text, have even had one or two calls, but it’s always been silence from him. Thinking that stubbornness will bring him home, maybe.

“Please sit down,” the principal says, voice calm.

He doesn’t say anything, but takes his seat, swallowing down the lump in his throat.

“Is it true that you’ve been living apart from your parents?”

“Yes,” he replies.

“Why is that?”

He glances over at his dad, who’s looking back at him. It’s hard to keep eye contact for too long, to overcome this new distance between them. “Because my parents don’t want me to be gay.”

The principal shuffles back into his chair a little. He wonders how his dad had phrased it.

“Channie,” his dad says, soft, careful. “Tell us what we need to do to bring you home. Tell me how to fix this.”

He turns his head to look at him. “Accept me as I am.”

“We love you so much, Chan.”

“That’s not the same thing,” he says, voice quiet, a little shaky. “Accept that I like boys, and that it’s okay. I don’t need therapy, or church, or fixing. Accept that you’ll never have a daughter-in law, and that one day, you’ll have to meet a boyfriend, instead. Accept me. Unconditionally.”

His dad takes his hands. The contact is warm. Suffocating. “Come home. We can talk about this. You can explain what you think, properly.”

He shakes his head, trying not to let out a bitter laugh. “That’s not what I said. That’s not going to make me feel safe. You need to research it. Look further than just church, and see how people live when they’re not like you. Try and understand me on my terms, and then we’ll be able to talk.”

“Chan,” the principle says warningly. “You need to go home if you can. I don’t want this to impact your studies.”

“I’ve been living away from home for two months now, Principal,” he says. “I’ve found somewhere safe to live, with someone who is providing for me. My grades haven’t dropped in that time. I promise you they won’t drop over this year, either.”

The Principle nods. “I’m afraid the school can’t directly interfere with family matters, Mr. Lee. As long as Chan is attending school as usual, it doesn’t come within the sphere of the academy.”

He breathes out, relieved. “May I be excused, sir?”

The Principle nods. Chan stands, and bows to him, and then to his Dad. “I’ll come and see you at Christmas, if you like,” he says, after only a moment of hesitation.

“Yes,” his dad says instantly, clasping Chan’s hands in his own again. “Let’s be together on that day, Dino. Your mother and I will talk a lot until then.”

He smiles, tries not to let his eyes get too wet. “Okay. See you then.”

He turns around and leaves the room quickly. Walks through corridor after corridor until he’s at the other side of the school, far, far away from there.

-

“What do you think we should do at the Dive for Christmas?” Soonyoung asks, sitting at his desk, documents and files spread out across it. “It’s my baby’s first Christmas. I can’t believe we’ve successfully made it this far.”

“Don’t overexaggerate,” Minghao says, not looking up from the dress he’s carefully stitching. “You’ve always had faith in yourself. You told me this was your life plan.”

“Well, yes,” Soonyoung says, spinning in his swivel chair. “But everyone has doubts. It’s nice to have made it this far, at least.”

“At least?” Chan says. “The Dive will live forever! It’s so popular, Hyung!”

“Well,” Soonyoung falters, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not doing amazingly, to be honest with you. The bank is always on my ass about repaying my loan, but I don’t make enough surplus to pay the agreed amounts right now. Not along with my living costs.”

The guilt hits him instantly, like it tends to these days. Christmas is coming up, and he has no money—he can’t buy gifts for his parents, or for Minghao, or Junhui, or even Soonyoung, who has done so much for him. He can’t do anything. The idea of taking up a job over the Christmas break was shot down by Soonyoung, too, who insisted he should focus on studying for his exams. So when Soonyoung says, _I’m barely keeping myself afloat, _he can read between the lines. What he means is, _I can’t pay for myself and Chan and the Dive, all at once._

_“_Which is why the Christmas event can’t be too costly!” Soonyoung says, putting renewed vigour into his voice. “Maybe just seasonal decorations, some Christmas song performances. We’ve got the New Year after that, too.” He sits back. “New Year’s will probably be busy. Maybe I shouldn’t let go of the bar staff yet.”

“Is it that bad?” Junhui asks, looking up from his phone. “You’re letting some people go?”

Soonyoung drops his pen onto the desk, grouching. “I don’t want to. It’ll be hard. But I can’t let this loan get any worse.”

“You could let the cleaner go and clean the place yourself,” Chan suggests. “Go a little earlier in the day to sort the place out. I could help out. I don’t mind.”

“I could do that,” Soonyoung agrees, considering. “Not you, though.”

“Hey,” he says, and it comes out a little angrier than he intends. “I can do things, you know. Normal students go out with their friends, or work part time jobs, or have extra curricular things. I only have you guys. You can let me help you out sometimes without it sabotaging my school career.”

Soonyoung looks at him with big eyes. “Right. Yes. Sorry. What were you saying about the Dive?”

“I was saying we could clean. Between the two of us, we could manage fine, so you wouldn’t have to pay a cleaner. You could get rid of the sound guy, too—I’ve been watching him, and his job doesn’t seem that hard. We could learn to do it amongst ourselves. And if you let go of one of the bar staff, you guys could sometimes work on that role too, when you need to. Does that free up enough cost?”

Soonyoung turns in his chair to scribble on his notepad for a minute. When he stops to look down at his numbers, they all watch him waiting. “Yeah, that would work out financially. But could we cover all of that work?”

“We could, theoretically,” Junhui says. “I already worked a bartender job—I know how to get by. Chan could be in charge of our music, if he wants to help out.”

“But if we’ve got one of us on the bar and one working the sound, that only leaves one of us to perform,” Minghao says. “We wouldn’t be able to do it all at once.”

“You don’t have to perform all the time,” Chan says, sitting up straight. “You can work out a rotating system. If I performed, too, you’d have enough people to cover all roles.”

Junhui immediately protests, as does Soonyoung, whose voice carries above his. “When I said you could perform up there one day, I didn’t mean this soon.”

“Listen to me, Hyung,” Chan says, leaning forward to impress his point. “This makes sense. Loads of sense! I can start with one night a week, so it’s not like a part time job, not even close—I’m at the Dive with you anyway on Fridays, the least I can do is pull my weight while I’m there. It would make me feel like I’m actually doing something to repay you. And it would be so much fun, God, I’ve wanted to get up there ever since I first came to the club! There’s nothing to lose here!”

“Only your childhood,” Soonyoung says.

“I’ll be eighteen next year,” Chan reminds him. “In most of the world, that’s considered adulthood.”

“Actually, your international age will be seventeen next year, which is in fact _not_ considered adulthood.”

“You’re not supposed to say that,” he whines. “You’re supposed to say, wow, Chan, great point, you can come and dance at the Dive sometime!”

“He does have a good point,” Minghao says, and Chan gestures to him.

“Thank you!”

“How is this a good idea?” Soonyoung asks.

Minghao sits forward. “I started younger than him. It was my freedom. God knows he needs some of that. And it helps balance out your situation, if he’s contributing to living with you, and it’ll help us out at the Dive…” he trails off with a shrug. “I think it makes sense.”

“You starting so young isn’t a reason for everyone to start young,” Junhui says.

“And you starting as an adult isn’t reason for you to ban young people from trying,” Minghao shoots back. “He’ll be with us, and he’ll be happy. Isn’t this enough reason to say yes?”

Soonyoung and Junhui look at each other, and Chan tries to contain his anticipation.

“We can do a trial run,” Soonyoung says hesitantly. “See how it goes.”

“Yes!” Chan says, leaping onto him in thanks.

“This isn’t a final decision!” he says. “A test run, okay!”

“Whatever you say, Hyung,” he replies, smiling wide.

“I can’t believe we’re being worn down by these kids,” Junhui sighs, shaking his head.

“I’m so glad I have you,” Chan says, moving over to give Minghao a hug, too.

Minghao doesn’t say anything, but he pats Chan’s back affectionately before going back to his stitching with a small, satisfied smile.

-

They do the trial run the next week, which gives him some time to get a routine together. He patches together choreographies from Junhui’s class with some popular pop dances, as well as a choreography of his own. It’s been a while since she’s been on a stage, and she finds herself wringing her hands with nerves before the show. She starts doing warmup stretches as a distraction, careful not to tear the red silk dress she’s wearing for the night.

“Are you ready?” Hoshi says, popping her head into the back room. She nearly doesn’t fit through the doorframe for the height of her wig, tall and styled as beehive hair, adorned with little honeycomb hexagons.

“Yeah,” she says, standing up straight and putting on her best smile. “Ready as ever!”

“You can still back out, you know—”

“Unnie, seriously,” she replies, shooing her back through the door. “Go and introduce me! I’m ready!”

“Okay, pushy,” Hoshi says, backing out. “Good luck!”

“Thanks!”

She can hear the boom of Hoshi’s voice through the speakers, can hear the bustle of the crowd outside, talking and laughing and responding to her prompts as she warms them up for the show. Diva cracks her knuckles, waits for the sound of her name, the introduction of her as a new queen.

She thinks about Wonho. He’s been looking around for the chance to do drag properly, but found opportunities limited in Busan. He’d made her promise to have some of her set filmed so he could see it and cheer for her. She wishes he could be here.

“The incredible Diva Saur!”

The announcement of her name snaps her out of her thoughts, and she steps out of the stage door to take up the stage, putting on a winning smile and flicking long black hair over her shoulder.

“Hello, everyone,” she says. “My name is Diva, and if you don’t recognise me, that’s because I’m new to this stage. New to drag performing completely, actually, so I hope you’ll look after me tonight.”

She gets a cheer at that, and smiles into the microphone. “I think I’ll get straight into it. I want to show you all what I have to offer.” She walks over to put the microphone to the side, nodding to the sound engineer to start her music. It starts up, and she snaps into motion immediately, body moving with the beat, alive under red lights and powered by the club energy.

It’s easy, being up here. Working up to it, practising, putting together the set, that’s where the work is; dancing a performance is like breathing, is like all she was meant for. It’s like being herself. It’s almost mindless, the way she can move with singular focus, dance every step and have it feel like the most natural thing in the world.

She’s brought back into the moment when the crowd cheer particularly loudly for one of her drops, legs out straight like Junhui had taught her, and she smiles wide. It’s easy, then, to roll into the floor part of the choreography, feeling the dress catch on her thighs, the moves sharp and precise. Practising the routine in heels has helped her get used to wearing them, and now they make her feel empowered.

The song ends, and she barely gives herself a break, ready to go onto the next song. She never wants to leave the space dance provides her, once she gets started—it’s so tempting to keep going forever, to thrive in the fluidity of it, to feed on the energy of the crowd. So she arches her back as the opening notes play, and keeps dancing.

Later, she realises this is the first time Tiana or Hoshi have seen her dance, properly. She can tell by the looks on their faces when she comes off stage to join them, by the way they stare as if seeing her properly for the first time.

“Wow,” Hoshi breathes, blinking at her.

“That was so good!” Seokmin enthuses, still clapping long after everyone else has stopped.

“Thanks,” Diva beams. “How’d I do?” she asks July, who’s smiling too, despite her initial reluctance about this idea.

“Wonderful,” July compliments, standing to hug her despite how sweaty she is. “That’s the best I’ve ever seen you do The Weeknd routine. You should get on stages more often if that’s what they do for you.”

“Oh, really?”

“Well,” July backtracks. “When you can.”

“Always!” Hoshi says, gaping a little. “All the time! Why haven’t you ever danced for me before?”

She can’t help but grin. “Never came up.”

“You were amazing,” Tiana says, gentle, sincere. “You really deserve to be up there.”

“Thank you, Unnie.”

“Yeah,” Hoshi says, in a slightly belated response. “You’ve got a weekly slot. How can I keep you off the stage after that?”

She beams, would jump on her if they weren’t sat in the middle of a crowded club. “Thank you! I won’t let you down!”

Joshua comes back with drinks, and they move onto the dance floor not long afterwards, the adrenaline in her system keeping her spirits high. She enjoys it as much as she can, because with the staff being let go in the new year, it’ll be harder for them to enjoy their nights like this, more work and less fun. It’s okay—makes her feel like she’s finally doing something, like she’s part of something important. But she’ll miss it too, dancing with Tiana, singing with Seokmin like this.

That is, if she’s still here next year. Christmas with her parents could change things—but she can’t see herself giving all this up easily.

-

It comes around quicker than he expects. He spends the morning with Soonyoung and Junhui and Minghao, curled up on Soonyoung’s shitty couch, watching old movies and drinking hot chocolate. It’s relaxing. Almost serves to distract him from the mounting nerves, the anxious build of waiting for dinnertime, but not quite.

It’s Soonyoung who drops him off in front of his parents’ building. “If you need to come back early, or if you decide to stay the night, or if you get five seconds in and decide you don’t want to be there, you call me, okay?”

“I will,” Chan reassures him. “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem,” Soonyoung says, putting a hand over his. “You’re strong, you know? This is pretty scary. But I know you can do it. If anything goes wrong, call me straight away. I’ll come get you.”

Chan only nods, throat dry.

“Have a good time,” is the last thing Soonyoung says before Chan steps out of the car, looking up at the apartment building with unease.

It’s strange, walking these halls again, no longer as a resident of the building. He keeps his eyes down, not wanting to be stopped by acquaintances or prying neighbours, but still pauses before he can muster up the courage to knock on the front door.

Mom answers it almost immediately and pulls him into an instant hug. He wonders if she’s been waiting by the door for him, watching her phone, anxious he might cancel. He’d spent time ironing this shirt, and then smoothing it down nervously several times over on the walk up, but suddenly he doesn’t really care about creases, only cares about the smell of home, of being held by his mom again. They stand there for a long minute, holding each other, her chin resting on his shoulder and her hands clutching his back.

When she pulls away, her eyes are shiny. “I’m so happy to see you, baby,” she says, voice scratchy. She strokes his cheek once, smiling at him. Something starts to beep in the kitchen, and she jumps, moving away to save her food, leaving his Dad to wordlessly approach the gap she leaves, only to bring him into a hug too. He desperately tries not to cry this early into the evening.

“We’ve missed you,” his dad says, and Chan clutches at him, buries his face in the soft material of his shirt.

“I missed you too,” he says, leaning back to smile up at him.

“You have to come and tell us all about school!” his mom says, bringing some dishes over to the table. “Sit, baby, and let’s catch up!”

“What do you want to know?” he asks, a little breathlessly. He takes his usual seat at the table, clean and neat and set up as if for a guest.

“Everything, everything!” his Mom enthuses, starting to dish out the food. “Tell us about all your classes!”

So he does. He tells them about his grades, how he’s working hard to turn in his assignments on time and study well. About how he spoke to Yuwon again, about how his teachers have been supportive over the last few months. Skips over the whispers in the corridor and jumps straight into his dance classes, about his new routines, about how Junhui has been praising his work so much, and how he’s been dancing more, been loving dance more, even if he doesn’t say exactly why he’s been dancing more. Doesn’t dare ruin the tentatively good mood with those sorts of details.

“And what about where you’re staying?” The way his mom asks it with such forced nonchalance tells him she’s been dying to know. Understandably, he supposes. He’s kind of impressed she’s managed to stay away from the question for this long. “Are you happy there?”

“Yes,” he says, and that’s the easiest truth to say. “I’m very happy there.”

“Who are you living with?”

“My friend, Soonyoung. He’s a really good Hyung. He’s been taking good care of me, making sure I do my work and stuff.”

“What does he do?” Dad asks.

“Oh… he owns his own business, and he’s a dancer!” he says, rushing through the words. Please don’t ask what he runs. Please. “He actually used to be a classmate of Junhui’s, so I see him around a lot, too. And I made friends with someone close to my age—his name is Minghao, he’s from China, and he’s an amazing dancer, too.” He nods, barrels on before they can ask much more. “What about you? How have things been?”

“Oh, it’s been much the same here,” his Mom says, waving her hands around. “Your father got a promotion, but not much else has changed.”

“Wow, that’s really good though!” Chan says, raising his glass in his Dad’s direction. “Cheers to that!”

“It’s been a long time coming,” his dad agrees, raising his glass and clinking it against Chan’s. “But nothing’s been quite the same without you around.”

He swallows, put his glass back down on the table. “Yeah. It’s been strange, living away.”

“Have you put thought into coming back?” Mom asks, delicately.

“Yes,” he says, staring at the placemat. “I think about it all the time. But it doesn’t depend on me.” He looks up, meets her eyes. “It depends on what you think. Did you research Myeongdong? And my community?”

His parents share a look before his mom pushes forwards. “Of course. We’ve been talking to lots of people. You father even picked up a book!”

“And that’s something that hasn’t happened in years!” his dad says, too jovial.

“And?” Chan says, holding his breath. “What do you think?”

His mom reaches out over the table to take his hands, but it’s his dad who speaks. “It’s opened our eyes. I didn’t realise how common it is. I understand, now, how you can feel like you belong with them rather than us.”

“It’s not like that,” Chan says, weakly. “I don’t have to choose. I can have both. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

“Baby,” his Mom says. “I’ve been praying about it a lot. Looking for guidance from God. We’ve been talking to the elders, too, for the best path forward. If you would come with us to see Pastor Park, just one time, I think that would really benefit both of us—”

He pulls his hands away from her, picks up a napkin to wipe his greasy fingertips on, to clutch it hard, to crush it into a ball. “When I asked you to try and understand me, I meant outside of the Church’s terms,” he says, voice small, tapering off towards the end. “I won’t see Pastor Park. He’ll have nothing helpful to say to me.”

“Chan,” his dad says, and he can hear the disappointment. “We’ve done our best to understand. Won’t you compromise with us? Try it a little—”

“I have,” he says. “I’ve been going to church with you for my whole life. I’ve tried it your way, and I don’t want it.”

“Move back in,” his mom says, desperate. “And we can take things slow. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but you can teach us about what you think, and we can show you how we see it. Don’t you think that’s fair?”

He feels like he’s going around in circles. How many times does he have to say it before they realise he’s_ tried_ their beliefs? He’s laid in bed, contemplating how hard it would be to try loving a faceless, nameless woman; he’s read the bible passages about homosexuality a thousand times, trying to decipher them. He’s been in church meetings that have taught chastity, decency, and heterosexual values. He’s been told that God loves all, even those who sin, even those like him, and that homosexuality is a challenge to overcome. He’s run those rings plenty of times, and he’s not willing to do it again, for the sake of parents can’t seem to value him as he is.

“No,” he says, pushing his empty plate away and standing up. “Thank you for the meal. I’d like to see you again soon.”

His dom mirrors him. “Please stop and think about it for a little while—”

“I’ve thought about it a lot,” he says. “It’s all I’ve thought about.” He brings her into another hug. “I’ll see you sometime in the new year.”

“Dino,” his dad says, voice cracking. “You don’t have to leave so soon.”

He offers out a hand to shake. “Merry Christmas, Dad.” His dad ignores the hand to bring him into a hug, firm and warm. He tries not to let the first tears stain his shirt.

When he extracts himself, he makes to go straight for the front door. He’s overwhelmed, and upset, and he wants to be out of here, needs the fresh air in his lungs.

“Oh, wait!” his mom calls, right as he’s pulling the door open. “Here. I know you asked for no gifts this year, but I saw this and thought of you.” She hands him a wrapped package, oddly-shaped and squashy to hold. “I want you to have it.”

He takes it from her, looking at the floor. “Thank you.”

“I love you,” she says, taking his face in both hands and kissing his cheek. “So much.”

“I love you too. Bye.”

He barely waits for them to say goodbye back before he’s out of the door, dialling Soonyoung’s number, tears blurring his vision as he heads towards the elevator out of instinct.

Soonyoung picks up on the first ring. “Channie?”

“Can you come and get me?” he says, trying to keep his voice steady.

“I’ll be there in two minutes.”

He wonders where Soonyoung has been waiting all this time, on Christmas day, to only be two minutes away. He makes it outside, where snow has started to fall again, soft kisses to his wet cheeks as he waits for him, propped against the wall of the building. Soonyoung really does arrive within two minutes, so he doesn’t get too cold—barely notices the temperature, anyway.

“Jeez, you really should’ve taken a coat,” Soonyoung admonishes when he sits in the passenger seat, turning the heating up and pulling away from the building. “How did it go?”

Chan can’t really speak, throat stuck up with grief, so he only shakes his head.

“Ah, Channie,” Soonyoung murmurs. “You’ve tried hard with them, you know that?”

Chan looks down at the package in his hand, the crumpled paper giving way to where he’s been squeezing it tight. He pulls at the tears, shredding the paper until the gift inside is revealed. Pulls out a plushie dinosaur, soft and green and something he would’ve loved, maybe, ten years ago.

He pulls it close, buries his face in it, and lets himself cry.

It’s not until later that night that he can give a real account of the meal. He’s lying on the sofa, head in Soonyoung’s lap, still holding the plushie dinosaur, and he whispers, “It wasn’t all that bad, you know.”

Soonyoung turns down the volume of the TV in response, fingers running through Chan’s hair. It’s late, but he’s been with him all day, trying to keep his spirits up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, voice low. “We were talking about school, and their life, and stuff. And it was nice, because I’ve really missed them. They’re still my parents, you know? And we cut it off so suddenly when I left… so it was nice to see them.”

“Sure,” Soonyoung agrees. “They still love you.”

“They do. I think that’s what makes it worse. They really want me to come home. They can’t understand why their attitude towards me hurts me so much.” He pauses. “I got my hopes up that time and distance might have changed them, but it did the opposite. I think I was hoping to go home, a lot more than I realised.” He thumbs at the soft fluff of the dinosaur. “And the way they reacted proved to me that I can’t. I’ll probably never live with them again. And that sucks.”

Soonyoung doesn’t say anything for a minute, just continues with gentle strokes. “That really sucks,” he agrees, quietly. “I wish it didn’t have to be like that.”

He hesitates for a moment, working the confession out of his mouth. “I think… it’s partly my fault.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Maybe if I’d stayed… maybe if I’d tried to explain more, they’d understand better. I didn’t want to be around them before, and now they’ve gone to talk to people in the Church about me, instead having me there to explain myself… it’s made things worse. Maybe I could’ve educated them. But they’ve just convinced themselves more that I’m wrong. I’m scared they’re never going to be able to see it from my perspective.”

Soonyoung stops his movements, and pats Chan’s arm, encouraging him to sit up. “Hey,” he says, once he does, and he can look Chan in the face. “You can’t think like that.”

“But I’m right, aren’t I?” he asks, bitter.

Soonyoung shakes his head, eyebrows furrowed. “They wanted to send you to a really bad place. Don’t ever forget that—they wanted to send you to a place that has killed people, and when you said no, they pressed you for it again. Even if it was out of ignorance, there is no way you could’ve safely lived with them after that. You had no obligation to stay around and let them manipulate you and let them make you feel like shit for the person you are. Maybe they could’ve been better educated if you’d gone through that, or maybe it would’ve made everything worse for all three of you. It doesn’t matter. Leaving was the best decision you could’ve made for yourself, and for your relationship with them.” He nudges Chan’s chin up with one hand, makes him meet his eyes. “It’s not your fault that your parents have those beliefs. Don’t ever blame yourself for it. You’ve done your best with them.”

A tear drops down his cheek, onto Soonyoung’s hand, and Soonyoung pulls him in for a hug, solid and stable. “Thanks, Hyung,” he says, muffled into his hoodie.

“Don’t ever feel guilty for looking after yourself, or for being yourself. Not in my house. Not ever. Okay?”

Chan nods against his shoulder. “Yeah.”

“Good,” Soonyoung says, rocking him slightly, like a baby being comforted. “Well done for reaching out to them, though. I’m so proud of you.”

Chan doesn’t say anything. Only rests there, in Soonyoung’s warm hold, clinging fast to the comfort of it.


	3. Chapter 3

The new year begins, and school starts again, alongside his new work at the Dive. It’s enough to keep him occupied; between assignments, dancing, and performing, he feels focused on his life, rather than the issues that orbit it. He doesn’t text his parents so much, but he turns in all his homework on time, brings new performances into the Dive every week and revels in the applause for them. As much as he’s tried to turn him down, Soonyoung insists on giving Chan his cut of the performances tips, and it’s nice to have the comfort of a little cash at hand. Things are going okay. He’s coping.

Then he finds out Chinese New Year falls three days before his birthday this year, and he has a difficult, tearful phone call with his mom about how he won’t be coming home for either of them. The Christmas meal with his parents was one thing; seeing his whole extended family, having attention and difficult questions thrown his way is different. It’s something he very much wants to avoid.

When he ends the call, Soonyoung comes into the bedroom, and sits beside him where he’s flopped onto the bed in defeat. “Not going home for the Lunar New Year?”

“No,” he says, into the pillow. “I couldn’t think of anything worse.”

“How about coming to celebrate with us?”

Chan rolls over in order to squint up at him. “Us?”

He nods. “Minghao and Junhui come and celebrate with my family every year. You’re very welcome to join us.”

He sits up. “Are you sure? Your family don’t even know me.”

Soonyoung waves away his worries. “They invited Minghao when he barely had enough Korean to hold a conversation. You’ll be fine.”

Which is how he ends up at the door of Soonyoung’s parents’ farm in Gyeonggi-do, having his cheeks squished by Soonyoung’s mother and being faced with a room full of aunties, uncles, cousins, and indistinct relations.

“You’ve collected another one, Soonyoung?” his mother says, embracing Chan in a hug at the doorway.

“He’s the last one, I promise!” Soonyoung calls from where he’s being jumped on by several young cousins.

“Yes, I’m sure,” his mother mutters, shaking her head and turning back to Chan. “And what’s your name, dear?”

“Lee Chan,” he says, letting her pat his face affectionately.

“Oh, you’re so cute,” she says, pinching his cheek. “Take a seat, darling. I’ll have the food out in a minute.”

“Thanks,” is all he manages to say before he’s squeezing through the people in the room, sticking close to Minghao. Soonyoung is doing his own rounds on the other side of the room, and with the way every family member seems delighted to see him, Chan wonders how much they know about Soonyoung’s life. Wonders if there’s some delicate lie he needs to maintain.

“Junhui!” one of Soonyoung’s cousins calls, opening his arms wide to give him a welcoming hug. “And Minghao! And a new one?” He gives Chan a friendly smile, holds a hand out to shake.

“Chan!” he says, shaking his hand politely.

“Ah, Chan! I’m Jooheon!”

“It’s nice to meet you,” he gushes, taken with the cute slant of his eyes, the bright smile on his face.

“Hey, you too! I think Soonyoung’s mentioned you before—you’re the new queen at his club, right?”

“Ah, yeah,” he nods. So they do know.

“His club must be doing well these days, to have so many regular performers?” Well, they know most things.

“The Dive is amazing!” he says, skirting around the question. “I love dancing there so much. He’s got an amazing thing going.”

“He’s always been ambitious,” Jooheon says, cheery. “I’m glad he could pull this one off.”

“Alright! Come and plate up! Kids first!” Soonyoung’s mother’s voice carries over the bustle of people, and there’s the sudden movement of excited children appearing from all corners to rush into the kitchen. As the little cousins finally release Soonyoung in pursuit food, he makes his way around the room, back to Chan and the others.

“Jooheoney!” he exclaims, pulling him into a delighted hug. “It’s been too long!”

“It always is too long!” Jooheon agrees. “How’ve you been?”

“So good,” Soonyoung says, grinning, showing off all his teeth. “I see you’ve met Channie?”

“Yeah! You can’t stop bringing home boys, huh?”

“Shut up, he’s a baby,” Soonyoung says, cheeks faintly pink. “Hey, shouldn’t you be going up to get food?” he says to Chan.

“I’m not four,” he says. “The children going up are actual kids.”

“Yeah, and teenagers, like you.”

“Wait, how old are you?” Jooheon asks.

“Eighteen,” he says.

“On Thursday,” Soonyoung supplements.

“Oh, happy birthday for Thursday!”

“Thanks!”

“But you’re still not an adult until next year,” Soonyoung says, putting his hands on Chan’s shoulders to turn him bodily, so that he faces the kitchen. “So let’s get you fed.”

He starts marching him towards where food is being dished out. “Hyung—” he protests, only to have a plate pressed into his hand by an auntie.

“Chan!” Soonyoung’s mother exclaims upon seeing him. “You must come and have some of this! Come, come!”

He’s somewhat comforted by Soonyoung behind him, who also having food piled onto his plate, because they were at the back of the kids’ line anyway. Junhui and Minghao come next, as guests, so he relents to sitting with his drag family and eating whilst others go up to get their own plates. The youngest kids have finished before some of the adults have even started, and they come over to be entertained by Soonyoung, who is clearly the most adored cousin in the room.

“Will you dance for us?” one of the little girls asks, eyes wide and hands clutching at the tablecloth in anticipation.

“Sure!” Soonyoung agrees without hesitation. “Wait a little while until everyone’s eaten, okay?”

“Okay!” she agrees delighted.

“Do you dance too?” another asks, and Chan looks up to find he’s the one being addressed. “Are you guys like a dance crew?”

“Yeah, something like that,” he smiles, endeared by her round cheeks.

“Will you dance too?”

“Oh,” he says, glancing up at Soonyoung. As the youngest of his own cousins, he’s not sure how to handle kids, has never had to appease them like this.

“Of course he will!” Minghao coos, pinching her cheek. She giggles and pushes his hand away.

“I will?”

“Obviously,” Minghao replies. “How could you say no to that?”

“We’ll be back to see you dance!” the first girl promises, before tugging the other away to join in with a game the boys are playing, raucous laughter and raised voices in the middle of the room.

He speaks to some of the other children, and a couple of frail elders, as well as the chatty adults, and he wonders if Soonyoung’s family are all just as naturally loud and overly friendly as Soonyoung is, or if he’s receiving the sort of attention that comes with being a guest. He doesn’t really mind, either way; it makes him feel comfortable, like he’s not totally invading their family gathering.

He sits quietly through the honouring of ancestors, at the back of the room with Junhui and Minghao, and thinks about home. The guilt that he’s been trying to ignore flares up as he imagines his parents honouring their ancestors without him, about the questions they’ll be receiving from his extended family, about the sebae bowing and traditional pocket money he’s missing out on. He wonders if his extended family would still want him to be there, if they knew; his Grandmother is the most religious person he knows. He wonders how things would’ve gone down if he’d stayed at home.

Soonyoung is in front of him, dragging him out of his head and into the room again. “I nominate Chan as team leader!”

“For… what?” he asks, dazed.

“We’re playing yutnori,” he says, leading him over to where a huge playing mat has been laid out, along with throwing sticks. “You’re captaining my team.”

“Can you dance for us first?” Soonyoung’s little cousin is back, tugging at the material of his trousers.

“Right!” Jooheon says, overly enthusiastic. “You haven’t danced for us yet this year. Are you feeling okay?”

“Just fine, thanks!” Soonyoung replies. “I’ve been biding my time.”

“Dance to that song!” she pleads, trying to pull his attention back.

“Which song?”

“Dumb dumb dumb dumb dumb dumb!” she sings, cute and out of tune, and they all know exactly what she’s referring to.

“Okay!” Jooheon claps. “Someone put Red Velvet on!”

“You know the dance to this, right?” Soonyoung says.

“Of course,” Chan grins. “Are you sure you do, old man?”

“Hey! I bet I know it better than you!”

The opening bars of the song blast through the speakers, and Chan immediately moves into the space that’s made for them. Everyone here seems to know what sudden loud music means, turning their heads to look for Soonyoung in the room, various young cousins shouting in delight and running over to watch.

They slip into the moves easily; the song was a hit, impossible to miss last year, the dance fun and fresh and easy to keep up with. Soonyoung, too, seems to know it well, grinning at Chan as they bounce together in time. The little girls who had initially begged for the performance are looking up at them, staring raptly, other kids around them doing their own clumsy imitations of the moves. The family members around start clapping for them as the chorus comes in, and Chan thinks about how electric a song like this would be if he performed it properly, had long hair to swish about and a cute skirt to flaunt. Maybe he’ll integrate it into the set next week. Right now, he’s trying to win, trying to outdo Soonyoung’s own enthusiasm and do the moves better, bigger, with more confidence. Jooheon seems to be rooting for him, which makes him smile wide, spin with flare, wink at Soonyoung in challenge.

The song comes to an end, and the girls squeal, and several of the aunties loudly proclaim their enjoyment. Jooheon laughs and tells Chan that he’s the winner, unquestionably.

“Why?” Soonyoung complains through a laugh. “We both danced the same!”

“Yeah, but you’re not the birthday boy,” Jooheon says, wiggling his eyebrows, before standing on the nearest chair. “Everyone!” he calls, bending slightly to keep a hand on Chan’s shoulder. “It’s Chan’s birthday on Thursday! Let’s sing him a happy birthday for dancing so well for us!”

Chan can barely voice his protest before Jooheon is leading the nearest family members into a round of Happy Birthday, Soonyoung joining in without question. This quickly spreads to the rest of the people in the room, and Chan can feel himself growing red under all the attention.

“Happy Birthday dear Channie!” Soonyoung yells into his ear, wrapping his arms around Chan’s shoulders in a back hug.

“Happy Birthday to you!” the room finishes, bursting into an applause, and he laughs, not sure how to react, how to thank them all, how to accept the attention without being all types of overwhelmed.

Jooheon steps down from his chair and brings Chan into a hug. “Good luck outdoing me on his actual birthday,” he says to Soonyoung, over his shoulder.

“You’re the worst,” Soonyoung tells him, pushing him away.

Jooheon only laughs, eyes crinkling and face bright. “Alright, now onto the real show. Who am I defeating in yutnori?”

-

As the year spans on, they fall into a routine. Chan sleeps on the sofa twice a week, and teaches Soonyoung how to make budae jjigae, and regularly crosses paths with Joshua in Soonyoung’s flat. Seokmin is around a lot, too, almost always comes to the Dive with Joshua, and is almost always left behind in the booth when Joshua goes to dance with Soonyoung. It’s okay, though; Seokmin is a good conversationalist, and Diva is happy to engage with him.

“I’m thinking for applying for the Queer Society committee next year!” he says, tipsy and open.

“Really?”

“Yeah!” he says, excited. “I want to bring people together, I want people to find friends who accept them, like you guys do for us—I want to bring people here, to have fun together!”

“That sounds really good,” she smiles, endeared. “You have a good heart, Oppa.”

“Ah, nah,” he says, gesturing widely. “I just feel like I’m in a good place, and everyone deserves to have a good place, too, you know?”

“For sure. Not everyone can be themselves in their normal lives.”

“Exactly! So if people can get away for a while, and be somewhere safe, wouldn’t that be so great? I’m going for the director, or the chairman, or…” he hiccups, frowning, “whatever it’s called.”

“You want to be in charge?”

“Yeah,” he admits, starts laughing at himself. “That.”

She has to leave Seokmin shortly after that to help Hoshi set up for her set, managing the sound for a while. It hasn’t been too hard to slip into this role, and for each of them to rotate into it when the other goes to perform, but it does take her away from the freedom to talk the night away. It’s not all bad, of course; she still gets to see the set, and it’s excellent, as always, energetic and fun and characteristically Hoshi. Tiana appears a few minutes before the end to help her transition into her own performance right after.

Her show goes by easily, effortlessly, and though there’s no special routines tonight, it’s a good time. The memorable part is coming off stage only to have Hoshi yell her praises, loud and overzealous, and the way her heart swells because of it.

They get out on the dance floor later on, when all the performances are done and the night hour has ticked on. She dances with Hoshi first, then moves to July, and then to Seokmin, and when she looks around for Hoshi again, she sees her caught up with Joshua, touchy and riled up in the middle of the dance floor. She looks away from them, goes to Tiana instead. Tries not to linger on the image of them together.

“Excuse me?” someone behind her says, shouting to be heard over the music. “Do you know who’s in charge of this place?”

Diva turns around to face her, and the woman who’d spoken startles a little. “Of the club? I do, I can take you to them?”

“Yes please,” she says, and Diva takes her arm gently, helps lead her through the crowd. She’s wearing a waitress uniform and keeps glancing at her surroundings, unsettled and uncertain.

“Unnie!” Diva shouts, reaching out to prise Hoshi away from Joshua.

She comes up for air, turning to look at Diva, her lipstick slightly smudged. “Yeah?” she says, grasping Joshua by the shoulders.

“This woman wants to speak to you.”

“Right,” Hoshi says, finally letting go of Joshua and stroking his shirt down, like she didn’t have her hands grasped tight in the material. “Do you want to go outside?”

The woman nods gratefully, and the three of them make their way outside into the cool, quiet night air. Her ears start to ring, so suddenly displaced from the loud music of the club.

“Is everything alright?” Hoshi asks, putting on her air of professionalism, as if she isn’t stood outside her gay club dressed in a catsuit, complete with cat ears, a tail, and collar, tinkly little bell attached.

“I’m from the Ossu Seiromushi, over the road,” the woman starts, almost apologetically. “I was sent over by my manager; they’re requesting you reangle the lights outside your club? The one to the left there shines right into our restaurant.”

“Ah,” Hoshi says, considering this. “But our lights are aimed directly at your wall, though? They shouldn’t be shining into the window?”

“I’m afraid they’re refracting,” the woman says, a little timidly. Diva feels bad for her.

“But if we point them at our walls, the lights will get stifled,” Hoshi says, frowning. “The rainbow colours don’t show up properly that way.”

“We would appreciate it if you could find an alternative that will suit us both, as we’re having complaints from customers.”

Hoshi sucks air in through her teeth, face grim. “We’ll see what we can do.”

She nods. “I’m sorry for bringing you out of your club.”

“That’s quite alright. I hope you’ll have a good night.”

“And you, too.”

She turns around to go back over the road, and Diva looks at their lights. “You know, you could try pointing them at the floor? It might make a rainbow pattern in front of the club instead. That’s kind of cute.”

“Diva,” Hoshi says, looking after the woman where she’s walking down the street. “Do you know who owns that restaurant?”

“No?” she says. “I didn’t even know there was one there.”

“It opened recently,” Hoshi says, turning to look at her now that the woman has finally gone back inside the restaurant. “It’s owned by Kim Seokjin and his brother.”

She frowns. “The idol?”

“That’s right,” she says, slinging her arm around Diva’s shoulders. “A celebrity opens a fancy-ass restaurant across from a gay club, and didn’t foresee that we might be around here, being gay,” Hoshi tuts, starting to lead her inside again.

“Aren’t you going to at least try and move the light?” she asks, half-laughing.

“Nah,” she says, as they emerge back into the stifling warmth of a full club. “We’re going to stay exactly as we are, and they can deal with it. Sound good to you?”

“And what if they try to sue you?”

Hoshi takes her hand and starts to dance with her, unbothered. The touch makes warmth spread along her arm, a pleasant zing under the skin. “Let them try,” she says, winking at her. “They’re going up against me, the queen of Hongdae.”

-

He takes full advantage of the summer break to catch up on his well-needed rest, and finally gets to put all his efforts into learning about drag performing. He starts performing at the Dive on Fridays as well as Saturdays, and the work is enough to keep him dancing, keep him looking for new songs and routines to light up the stage with. Junhui takes him shopping, and he picks out some outfits of his own with the tip money he’s been carefully saving, even has the guts to try them on in the store, walking up and down the changing rooms in new heels and new skirts. Minghao invites him around and shows him how to repair and modify the items so blatantly not meant for his body type. He’s not very good at it, but he appreciates the help, nonetheless.

Then there’s Soonyoung, who keeps trying to make him stand on his own two feet with his makeup process, even though he’s still clumsy with the delicate things like eyeliner, still isn’t sure where eyeshadow is supposed to stop, still isn’t sure how much glitter is too much glitter.

“You can never have too much glitter!” Soonyoung insists. “Do you want to see this picture of me completely covered in blue glitter?”

Chan maintains that there _is_ such a thing as too much glitter, but he gets there with everything else, practices whenever he can, wearing makeup around the flat almost daily as a side-product of his attempts. Joshua compliments him on it whenever he passes through, but Chan fails to find much pleasure in it when his visits only inevitably lead to Soonyoung being occupied in the bedroom, exiling Chan from the luxury of the big mirror in there. It becomes more difficult to strike a balance between the three of them, without Chan’s school hours taking him away from the house. It seems to slow the other two right down in their relationship, until they stop completely when Joshua goes back home for his own summer break. He tries not to feel glad about it; Joshua is his friend, but it’s nice not to have to dance around their friends-with-benefits arrangement during his time off.

Summer seems to go by in a blink, though, and school comes back around again all too fast. The plan is to keep his head down, to get on with his work and graduate high school like Soonyoung wants him to, so that his life can really get going. What he gets, instead, is stares in the corridor, whispers behind his back, a locker slammed in his face and laughter when he jumps at it. It reminds him of last year, when the rumours about him leaving home were going around, only ten times worse, because then it was just gossip. Now, he sees people turning away from him as he passes, others who put their heads together and laugh, stealing glances at him across classrooms. He’s not sure what’s surfaced to bring on the new wave of social shunning, but it makes his skin crawl, the way he can feel stares on his back and hear his name passed around like it’s a good joke.

It’s P.E. that tips him off. He changes into his gym uniform with speed in his usual dim corner of the locker room, which doesn’t seem to be good enough for Jungseok, who speaks up from behind him.

“Are you sure you’re in the right place, Chan?” he asks, and one of his friends snorts.

Chan looks over his shoulder, sees Jungseok and some of his friends looking at him, and looks back down at his bag, rummaging for his water bottle. It’s unwise to engage with wild animals.

“Hey, come on, I’m trying to help,” Jungseok says, and he can feel he’s coming closer. Chan itches to turn around so that he can be on guard, can see the enemy, but doesn’t want to rise to Jungseok’s provocation. “The girls’ locker room is across the hall.”

Something awful and heavy settles in his chest. Being called a girl isn’t an unusual high school insult, not one he’s unfamiliar with, but coupled with the new whispers, with all his work at the Dive over summer and Hoshi’s rising popularity on the drag scene, he can’t help but feel dread, feel like maybe they _know_.

“Hey, Lee Chan. Are you listening? You can only be in here if you have a dick.”

He turns at that, water bottle in hand. “Why the sudden interest in my dick, Jungseok? You have something you want to share with the class?”

“No, but I think you do,” he grins, feral. “Shouldn’t you be in the sports skirt?”

The teacher comes in at that moment, saving him from having to try and retaliate through the rush of blood to his ears, the hard thumping of his heart. They do know. Somehow, they all know.

Class goes about as well as expected. They’re running track, so he doesn’t really have to talk to anyone, but he nonetheless gets jostled by several of the boys on their way past, has names shouted at him every time Jungseok laps him. On one occasion, he’s pushed into the mud for daring surpass one of Jungseok’s friends.

He tries to scrub the mud off in the bathroom, because God knows using the showers is as good as having a death wish, and it puts him behind the rest of the class. At first, he doesn’t mind it; he might get a late mark at his next class for his efforts, but it means that Jungseok and his friends will have already gone to their next class by the time he makes it into the locker room.

What he comes back to see is the state of his belongings strewn across one side of the locker room, his bag tipped out and lunch spilt all over his school uniform. Papers crumpled into the mud on the tiles, pens rolled under benches, his books torn. The other boys still left in the room avert their eyes as they leave, anxious not to be called upon to snitch. Not that they need to. Not that he has any doubt in his mind who’s done it, cocky and cruel, even as the class watched on, were made complacent in the crime.

He crouches down to pick up his shirt, drenched and stained orange with tteokbokki sauce.

He feels exhausted.

“Yuwon!” he calls, spotting her in the hallway. The spare school uniform looks no different from his own, but it smells different, makes his skin itch thinking about the amount of students who’ve worn it before him.

Yuwon turns his way, eyes wide. Her friends stare, and he can’t find it in him to care. “Chan?”

“Can we talk for a minute?”

She nods, barely hesitating. “I’ll be back in a minute,” she tells her friends, before leading Chan down the corridor and into a quiet corner. “You okay?”

“No, not really,” he says. “Do you remember when you told me that I could ask you if I needed anything?”

“Of course,” she nods, though she sounds less confident now, eyeing him up apprehensively. “What is it?”

“I need you to tell me what the school’s saying,” he says, imploring. “I need you to tell me how everyone found out.”

Yuwon visibly swallows. “People talk shit, Chan, it’s a school.”

“Oh, I know. Believe me. I just need to know what exactly they’ve found out. You must’ve heard rumours, at least.”

Yuwon glances up at him, then looks away again. “Yeah.”

“I need to know what’s being said about me so that I can deal with it. Please.”

She wilts at that, tugging at the bag strap over her shoulder. “It’s shit-talking, I guess. People are saying that you go out in dresses and wigs. That you go and dance in clubs as a woman, and get tips for it, like a stripper.”

“Jesus, people don’t know shit. What else?”

“Some people are saying you’re gay. Other people are saying you’re the other thing. Trans…sexual?”

“Transgender,” he corrects her, “though I’m not.”

“They’re saying that you live with another man who dresses up too, and that you’re, like… a kept boy.”

He steps back and bites the inside of his cheek, processing. “Do you believe them?”

She stares at him for a few moments, shuffles on the spot. “There’s pictures. I know it’s not all true, but some of it must be.”

“Pictures? Can you show me them?”

She nods, pulling her phone out of her pocket and navigating it for a minute as he watches on, thinking about how this is going to go down if it reaches anyone with authority, anyone else who wants to presume the worst about him and Soonyoung. He can’t get Soonyoung into trouble after all this, after almost a year of living with him.

In front of him, Yuwon turns her phone around to show him a picture. It’s a grainy photo of the Dive, of her up on its stage, in full drag and mid-performance. He takes a note of the account it’s taken from; photography inside the Dive is forbidden. He nods, and Yuwon swipes onto a video of a performance he did last week; Hoshi had joined him on stage halfway through, and they’d received a lot of positive feedback for their chemistry and energy. She swipes again, this time showing a picture he recognises; it’s him and Soonyoung, again in full drag, a selfie taken in the backroom whilst they’d been coming down from a performance. He’s kissing Soonyoung’s cheek playfully, arm slung around his shoulders. Hoshi had posted it on Instagram later, and he’d consented, because his face is barely visible in the picture, mushed into Hoshi’s cheek and covered in a layer of heavy makeup. Whoever had picked him out of this picture has a very sharp eye, or a keen intuition for ruining his life. Or both.

Yuwon locks her phone, clutching it to her chest. “So? Is it true?”

He looks at her, mouth twisting into something that isn’t a smile. “I’m gay, yes. I’m living with this Hyung, yes. I’m performing in drag, yes. You can ditch the rest of it. I’m happy, too, if anyone cares about that, and safe, and finally finding who I want to be, so there’s that. Suppose it doesn’t make for good gossip, though.” He tries to rein back his frustration. It isn’t her fault. The bell for the end of lunch break rings, and people lingering further up the corridor start to move.

Before he knows it, Yuwon has enveloped him in a hug, pulling his head down to rest on her shoulder. He tenses for a second, but then relaxes into it, reaches his arms around her to accept the hug. They hold each other, and he knows students passing by are staring, but he doesn’t pay them any attention. The press of her hair into his cheek reminds him of his mom.

She breaks the contact and steps back, grabbing him to pull him forwards, out of the stream of students going by. “I’m really glad you’re happy Chan. I hope you’ll stay safe and happy for a long time.”

“Thanks,” he says, though it comes out more like a breath of air, soft and quiet.

“I’ll try to get my friends to stop chatting shit. People just love the drama of it. I wish they’d stop it, sometimes.”

“I wish they’d stop it all the time,” Chan admits. “Thanks for telling me everything. You should probably get to class before you get a late mark.”

“Right. You too. I’ll see you around, Channie.”

He inclines his head, giving her a playful salute. “You to, Yuwonnie.”

-

Seokmin and Joshua come back from summer break, and when they do, they bring friends.

“Diva!” Seokmin calls when she comes off stage, beckoning her over to the two tables the group are occupying. She racks her brain for a moment, sweaty and distracted, trying to figure out where Seokmin found all these fresh customers.

“Oh!” she calls back, delighted. “Did you get on the committee? Are you the gay leader now?”

Seokmin laughs. “Yeah! These are my friends from the society! Everyone, this is Diva Saur; she’s a drag artist here!”

The crowd around Seokmin wave or say hellos, and some nervously glance her way, looking her up and down, trying to figure her out. She doesn’t mind, greets them with a smile, as welcoming as she can be.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you guys!” she slides in to sit beside Seokmin, starts greeting the people sat at the first table. There’s Jeonghan and Jihoon, Hyojin and Heeyeon, others she can’t really hear over the music, others still sat too far away to address.

Seokmin looks to be nervously watching them all, like a father with too many kids. “Where’s Joshua?” she asks, though she figures she knows the answer; Hoshi is somewhere else in the room, so she can only assume that’s where he is, too.

“He’s introducing Seungkwan to Hoshi,” Seokmin says, confirming her suspicions. “He’ll be somewhere around here. I’m sorry to have missed your performance!”

“It’s okay! I perform two nights a week now, so you can feel free to come by tomorrow, too! You should watch Tiana for now, though; her routine this week is wonderful.”

“Right!” Seokmin says excitedly, but he’s really the only one in the group not paying attention anyway; the others in the booth are watching Tiana with rapt attention, as one must when she’s performing, all dark eyes and addictive movement. She gets up to go and find Hoshi, remind her that she can’t stay with Joshua for too long; she’s due on stage next.

Surprisingly, she passes Joshua in the crowd leading a round-cheeked boy towards Seokmin’s table, strangely not attached to Hoshi. She pushes through, stops by the sound booth to see July, who gives her a stage mic and directs her into the backroom. There, she finds Hoshi simultaneously powdering her face whilst doing lunges, already mic-ed up and preparing for her performance.

“You ready?” she asks.

“As ever,” Hoshi says, turning to her and grinning. “How do I look?”

“Killer,” Diva says, nodding to her leopard-print clothing set. “Literally.”

“That’s right!” she says, looking back in the mirror and turning her head from side to side, admiring herself. “Hey, have you ever heard of Tangerina?”

“That drag queen from Jeju? Didn’t you show me a video of her the other day?”

“Yeah, her,” Hoshi says, twisting to check her behind in the mirror. “She’s here, in our club. Josh brought her along. She’s going to audition for a permanent slot in our line-up tomorrow night.”

“Really?” They get drag queens here often enough, people having fun on a night out or Hoshi’s friends come to visit. But they’ve so rarely had anyone perform other than the four of them that the idea of a new regular takes her aback. She must be something special about this new girl.

“Yeah,” Hoshi says, finally done with the mirror and heading to perch on the couch. “I know she’s going to be good, but we need to prove we’re worthy too, so. Wish me luck out there.”

“You don’t need luck,” Diva says, lingering by the stage door, waiting for the tell-tale sound of Tiana’s song dying down. “You’re always amazing.”

“Thanks,” Hoshi grins, eyes squinting into lines. “Always nice to have moral support from my favourite girl, though.”

Diva rolls her eyes, suppresses a grin. “Good luck, Unnie.”

“Thanks, baby.”

A shiver passes through her, and she puts it down to the way the bass cuts out in the club, leaving only echoes and reverberant cheers. She opens the stage door to see Tiana bowing and making her way offstage; that’s her cue to go up, to introduce Hoshi as the next act.

"Wow!” she enthuses to the crowd, looking to where Tiana is disappearing into the shadows off stage. “Princess Tiana never disappoints in her stages, does she? Could we give her another round of applause for that?”

She’s got better at this, the talking that needs to be done in between, the obligatory filler to bracket each of them as separate, but also to link them all together as cohesive. Where at first it was foreign, now it feels natural, easy to take up the stage even when she’s not dancing, just talking with the crowd on a more intimate level.

When the noise dies down, she carries on. “Her set is so smooth and sensual that I think she really compliments the act we have up next, who’s all about energy and expression. Do you guys know who I mean?”

The crowd obviously know who’s next; there’s only two of the four left, and July isn’t on the line-up for tonight. “Hoshi!” they call out, discordant, excited.

“Yeah, you know it. She looks amazing tonight, and her performance is going to blow you away. I hope you’ll all put your hands together for the Queen of Hongdae, Hoshi!”

She steps off stage, leaving the applause and raucous cheers behind her, and Hoshi’s first song starts moments later. She comes down to stand by July, put her mic away, and check if all is running well with her.

Once she’s done that, there’s not much left but to watch Hoshi dance. Not that she’s complaining. It’s easy to sit and watch without thinking about her surroundings, with the same rapt attention she had all that time ago, seeing Hoshi perform for the first time. She’s only improved as a performer over time, adjusting to her stage, to her audience. Will rile them up only to bring them down again, manages the perfect mix of impressive dancing and playful strutting, showing herself off, taking all the attention. She certainly has all of Diva’s attention. She thinks she’s never seen anyone dance the way Hoshi does, and she’s never met anyone quite so captivating, both in dance and in personality.

“She’s stunning,” she says out loud.

July nods. “As always. There’s something about her, isn’t there?”

“Yeah.”

She wonders where the drag queen is, the one Hoshi is performing to impress tonight. Hopes she knows how lucky she is, to have Hoshi dance like this, for her.

She meets her the next day, the mysterious Tangerina who’s set to kick off tonight’s performances with her audition. She’s led into their backroom by the ever-helpful Joshua, though he doesn’t stay, giving them all a friendly smile before leaving Tangerina to introduce herself them.

“Hello there, babe!” Hoshi greets. “You clean up well! Love the ‘tin foil at a rave’ look you’re going for!”

Tangerina smiles, the silver of her dress catching the light. “Thanks, Unnie! Your furry on holiday looks always take the spotlight, though.”

Diva purses her lips, trying not to laugh. Perhaps Hoshi has finally found her match.

“You must be Tangerina!” she intervenes, standing to give her a hug, because she’s nothing if not friendly. “I’m excited to see what you can do!”

“I’m so excited to be on stage again,” Tangerina replies, cheeks rising as she smiles through her words. “I hope you’ll enjoy it, though I can’t dance anything like you can. Your performances yesterday were incredible!”

“Each performer is different, don’t worry too much!” Tiana says encouragingly. “We’ll enjoy a new performance regardless. It’s been just the four of us here for a while now.”

“Yes, fresh blood and all that,” Hoshi agrees. “This is your first time meeting these girls, right? This is Diva Saur, Princess Tiana, and July.”

Diva gives her an enthusiastic “Hello!” along with a wave. Tangerina beams back, though she’s mostly eyeing up July, the only one of them who hadn’t performed yesterday.

“I’m Tangerina, but you can call me Rina,” she says, inclining her head to each of them. “It’s so good to meet you!”

“How old are you, Rina?” she asks, curious.

“Nineteen,” she says. Young, but still a year older than Diva. “You?”

“Another Unnie for you, Diva!” Hoshi says, through a teasing grin.

Diva flops back into her chair in mock despair. “Will I ever find another same-aged drag friend?”

It’s not long before Hoshi heads out to introduce Tangerina, with Tiana taking up post on the sound system. Diva is positioned backstage; Rina is only doing one song, so there’s no point her moving back into the club when she’ll be on in a few minutes to introduce Hoshi’s set. This relegates her to watching Rina’s performance from the backstage, but even from back here it’s not hard to know that she’s got confidence in buckets, playing on the crowd’s energy, takes a familiar song and recreating it with her own, fresh style. More strikingly, she can _sing—_Diva almost steps back when she hears the way Rina belts the high notes, voice clear and high and strong through their sound system. She and Soonyoung sing during shows sometimes, especially when dancing to pop songs, but it’s nothing like this. Rina has a voice powerful enough to infuse the performance with her own character, despite dancing someone else’s routine. She’s something new, something different to the rest of them. There’s no way Hoshi won’t bring her on. She can tell even from the opening, from the first dance move executed, that Rina is a keeper.

The rest of them follow her up, a night of performances from all five of them, and it goes well. Knowing Rina is still here, too, watching each of them, she can’t help but feel newfound pride; a new queen in their midst puts them in stark contrast to each other all over again, and she revels in how they’re all varied, all strong. Marvels at July on the pole, her strength and agility, how she’s so different from the teacher Diva had for years. How the Pink Dive can accommodate them all, can bring out the best in them.

They, of course, give Rina an offer, which she gladly accepts. Diva can’t find it in her to be anything other than excited for the new face on the scene, new growth in the club, for the new girl and her cute cheeks.

-

“Hey baby,” his mom says, voice muffled through the phone line.

“Hi, Mom. How have you been?”

“Oh, you know,” she says. “Same old. Your Grandma was here last week…she asked after you. How about you?”

“Yeah, the same,” Chan replies. “Getting by with school. What have you told Grandma?”

There’s silence for a moment on the other end. “The truth.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“How did she take that?”

The pause before she speaks tells him all he needs to know. “She’s confused.”

“Yeah. I bet.”

“We’re obviously meeting up with everyone again for Chuseok, and we’d love to have you there. But we also understand if you can’t.”

“You do?”

“There’s no point in us forcing you to come if you’ll be upset the whole time,” she says, and he wants to yell _yes, are you finally getting it?_ “But we should meet up again soon. Your father’s birthday is at the end of the month; will you come out with us to celebrate?”

He considers it, cradling the phone to his ear. “Just you and me and Dad?”

“Yeah. Just the three of us.”

He chews on his lip. He’s not going to get a better offer than this. “Okay. Sure.”

“Good,” she says, tension from her voice released, breathy and happy. “Do you have plans for Chuseok?”

“Yeah. My friend from Busan invited me to spend it with his family. I’m excited to see him again. It’s been a while.”

“That sounds lovely,” she says, so softly. “I hope you have a good time. I can’t wait to see you, Dino.”

He smiles. “You too, Mom. See you soon.”

“See you. Love you, baby.”

“And my boss says to me, what, you’re fifty already? You know it’s not in the interest of the company for you to age, right?”

Chan snorts into his drink. “And that’s all you got?”

“That’s all I got!” his dad says, affronted. “No ‘happy birthday’, no card, or even a nice bonus. That last one was a little hopeful, I admit.”

“Well, happy birthday, Dad,” he smiles, leaning down to dig in his bag.

“Ah, thanks, son,” he says. “You’re the one that matters the most, anyway.”

“I was first to say it, though,” Mom tuts, though she’s smiling. “Where’s my appreciation?”

Chan resurfaces with the little wrapped gift he’d prepared, carefully places it on the table in front of his dad. “I didn’t really know what to get you, but I hope you like it.”

“Channie! You didn’t have to!” his dad says, but he’s already taking apart the wrapping, clearly eager.

“What is it?” his mom says, leaning over to watch him open it.

The paper falls away to reveal a Star Wars figure set. He and his dad had watched the whole series together when he was young, and they’d played with the toys a lot as he grew up. One of the figures had snapped with use, and he’d cried and promised to replace it, but had never gotten around to it with his limited allowance. Nowadays, he’s earning his own money and thinking about those times so often that it had been a no-brainer when he’d seen the exact figure in a store, new and perfect.

“Ah, Dino,” his dad says, scraping his chair back and standing up. Chan smiles, and stands up to accept his hug, face meeting soft shirt. “I still have the old one at home, you know.”

“But now you can display the new one with pride,” he says, swaying slightly into the hug.

It’s surprisingly easy to keep up the conversation between them; months of separation leaves you with plenty to talk about. He still doesn’t tell them about the Dive and his performances, though it’s such a big part of his life these days. It feels like a second coming out, something more radical and unfamiliar that they’re not quite ready for. He’ll tell them when he’s an adult, and can legally make his own decisions about it.

There are, however, other things going on in his life that don’t escape their attention. “So, I had a call from the school a few weeks ago,” his mom starts, and he looks down at his nearly empty plate.

“Right,” he says.

“They brought the concern to me that you might be being bullied at school.”

He sticks his tongue into his cheek. “Yeah.”

“You are?” his dad says.

“I suppose.” He wonders at what point the teachers had deemed it the time to call his parents. The time that his locker was broken into, sports kit stolen? The time he’d apologetically shown a teacher his homework, finished but torn into pieces, and requested an extension? The time he’d left school late, hoping to avoid the flood of people walking home, only to be grabbed in the alley behind school, hard enough to leave bruises?

Soonyoung had caught on, that day, when he’d changed out of his uniform without realising how stark the bruises were, how they so clearly marked a hand on his arm. He’d brought him to sit on the couch and asked if he needed him to talk to the headmaster, to call up someone’s parents, to start picking him up from school at the end of the day.

“I want to leave,” he’d said. Nothing stops cruel kids but complete isolation from them, getting as far away as possible.

Soonyoung had shaken his head, mouth set in an apologetic line. “Anything but that.”

“I should’ve talked to you about this when I first heard about it,” his mom says. “I need to speak to your teachers about this.”

“It’s okay. I think it’s wearing off now. It’s just kids. They like to talk; they like to shun people who are different and believe they’re better for it. I’m doing my best with it.”

“You can’t let it go on if it’s affecting you,” his dad says, frowning. “We should take action.”

He shakes his head. “It’s okay. I’ve got less than a year left, anyway. It’s better to stay out of their way.”

“Oh, baby,” his mom says. “I wish it didn’t have to be like that.”

“Me too,” he admits.

When he bids his parents a goodnight and slips into Soonyoung’s car, he practically melts into the seat, into the warmth of the heating blasting at his face.

“You okay?” he asks, pulling out of the car park.

“Fine. Good, actually, we had a good time. It’s just always exhausting, because none of it is easy anymore.”

“Yeah,” Soonyoung murmurs. “Hopefully that’ll come back with time and effort, though. Are you seeing them again for Christmas?”

“Yeah,” he says, watching the city pass by around them. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” Soonyoung says, shaking his head. “You’re really strong, you know. I couldn’t do everything you’re doing.”

“What exactly am I doing?” he says, almost laughing. “My life is a mess.”

“You’re working hard for a healthy relationship with your parents, whilst living with someone barely out of school himself. You’re dealing with assholes at school and all the pressure of your final school year, all the while dancing and preparing routines for your weekly work at a gay club.” Soonyoung glances over at him, sucking in air though his teeth. “I admire it. You’re really something, Lee Chan.”

There’s a warm pit of something in his stomach, stirring pleasantly, his heart fluttering at the praise. “It’s all thanks to you, you know.”

“Don’t say that—”

“I’m serious. You were the one I came to, when I left home, and here I am, still. God knows where I would be otherwise. I probably would’ve dropped out of school if not for you, too; you’re the one pushing me to be my best. I know you don’t like to hear it, but you’re really kind. You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met.”

“Well…” Soonyoung says, trailing off. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” he says, smiling over at him in the dark of the car. “Thanks for everything you’ve done for me.”

“Of course. You’re my family. I love you.”

He has butterflies in his stomach and warmth tingling under his skin. “I love you too, Hyung.”

Soonyoung’s face is soft under the passing streetlights, their yellow glow reflected in the swell of his cheeks. It makes him feel at ease, and they drive on in comfortable silence as he watches the light flit over his face.

-

Christmas rolls around, and one benefit of belonging to two families is that he gets to celebrate it twice. Christmas day is reserved for his parents, but when Soonyoung learns that several of their friends aren’t going back to their own homes to celebrate, he eagerly starts organising a domestic celebration for Christmas Eve, too. There’s Junhui and Minghao, of course, who never seem to go back to China for any holiday; Seungkwan, too scared to bring his bad University grades home and all too happy to stay performing in the Dive over the winter break; Jeonghan, too, seems pleased at the invite, pleased to have somewhere to be instead of holed up in his student apartment for Christmas. Jihoon takes a little more persuasion, but gives in when Junhui is the one to ask him. It’s hard to say no to someone like Junhui.

So when it’s early in the day on Christmas Eve, he finds himself standing in the kitchen with Soonyoung, trying to figure out how exactly to cook a turkey the right way. When Soonyoung brings out some kimchi, jjajangmyeon, and gopchang to go with it, Chan stares.

“It’s like you couldn’t decide whether to go with the western Christmas meal or with a Korean buffet,” he says, dumbfounded.

“I’ve got some Chinese dishes too, ‘cause I know Minghao and Junhui will prefer them. I wasn’t sure what everyone would like, so I bought a little of everything.”

“There’s only seven of us, you know. Not a whole extended family.”

“I know!”

“We’re going to have enough leftovers to keep us going until next Christmas!”

“Then so be it!” Soonyoung declares, going into the fridge again to find his sausages.

Their guests, on the other hand, are delighted at the spread laid out in front of them.

“Wow, Hyung! You’ve been working hard!” He hears Seungkwan coming in from where he’s stood in the kitchen, arranging the salad, his voice carrying through the small apartment easily.

“Ah, it’s nothing,” Soonyoung says, though his tone betrays his delight at the praise.

Chan picks up his salad bowl and makes his way over to the dinner table. “Wow, I wonder who else has been working hard on this meal?”

“Ah, it’s also down to Channie’s efforts, of course!” Soonyoung says obediently, and Jihoon laughs at them.

“Oh, right, that’s who!” Chan says, patting him on the arm before he goes back to the kitchen to get the last few platters.

“It looks amazing!” Junhui says, taking a seat closest to the Chinese dishes.

“Thank you!” Chan beams, squeezing the plates into the last spaces on the table and sitting himself down next to Seungkwan. “I’d call this a success, even if the turkey did give us trouble at first.”

Soonyoung sits on his other side, and the guests around the table thank them for the food before tucking in gladly. A comfortable quiet settles over the table as they eat, mostly making appreciative noises at each other rather than chatting. Soonyoung and Seungkwan talk over his head a little, because they never seem to be able to stop talking.

“I actually had someone come up to me about your performance last week,” Soonyoung says. “You know, the SNSD one?”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah. They asked me if you were Tiffany.”

Seungkwan’s chewing slows. “What?”

Soonyoung nods vigorously to convey his seriousness. “I don’t know where he thought he was, but he really thought we’d hired SNSD Tiffany to perform in my gay club. He must’ve been drunk out of his mind.”

“Hey!” Seungkwan laughs. “Maybe I’m really just that good!”

“You’re pretty good, but you’re not exactly a Tiffany lookalike,” Chan says, laughing.

Seungkwan narrows his eyes at him. “Alright, so that’s how it is?”

“What, you want me to ignore the truth?” he challenges. “How hard do you want me to pretend?”

“This kid…” Seungkwan mutters, turning to make a face at Minghao, who laughs. “If we were same age friends, I’d take you on right now.”

“I’ll be an adult in the new year,” Chan grins. “You only have to wait a week. Brawl outside the Pink Dive?”

“You’re on!”

“Wait, Channie isn’t an adult yet?” Jeonghan asks. Next to him, Jihoon is looking up too, quiet but attentive.

“Nearly!” he says, waving his chopsticks at him. “I’m in my last year of high school. I’ll be free in a few months, thank God.”

“I had no idea you were that young,” Jeonghan says. “Isn’t it a lot? Performing so often and being in school?”

“It is, but I don’t know what I’d do without it. Drag is my freedom. School is really shit, so performing is the only thing that makes up for it.”

“Are you out to anyone at school?” Jihoon asks, putting down his rice bowl.

“More or less everyone. I never said anything, but it’s a school, so everyone knows everything.”

“That’s shit,” Jihoon says. “Kids are the worst. No offence.”

“None taken,” he smiles. “Did you come out in school too?”

Jihoon shrugs. “Same as you. Never said anything, but I cut my hair short and started wearing the boys’ uniform, so obviously people started talking. They didn’t understand my decisions, so it was enough to make people talk.”

Jeonghan sighs. “Kids really are the worst.”

“Are you out to your family?” Soonyoung asks.

“Yeah.” Jihoon focuses on scraping up the food from his bowl. “I came out to everyone before leaving for Uni. The reaction wasn’t amazing, which is why I’m staying here for the break.”

“That’s the worst,” Seungkwan says, quiet. “I hope they’ll come to accept you soon, Hyung.”

Jihoon doesn’t meet his eyes, but he nods his thanks. “I hope so too.”

“What about you?” Minghao prompts, looking at Seungkwan. “Do your family support you?”

“Yeah, pretty much. My sisters have always been supportive. Ma struggles with it, but both of my sisters came out before I did, so I’ve had it okay at home.”

“Youngest child privileges,” Jeonghan remarks. “They’re real.”

“And the drag?” Minghao asks.

“Yeah, she’s been surprisingly fine with that too. I’ve been singing since forever, so she just sees it as a type of performing. She’s never been to a show, mind you; she might change her mind yet.”

“I’m the same as you,” Soonyoung pipes up. “I’ve been dancing my whole life, and my family have always let me do what I want. Putting on dresses and dancing was barely a problem, for them.”

“This is, like, spot the good parenting,” Chan muses, looking around the table. “I think Soonyoung and Seungkwan are the only winners.”

“I barely scrape by,” Seungkwan points out. “My oldest sister was telling my Ma she was a lesbian for years before she actually accepted it.”

“Okay, then you get half a point,” he says.

“I think that puts me at minus ten,” Minghao says. “Kicked out of the house and ran away to Korea as a teenager?”

“Right, I’m changing the rules,” he declares. “Soonyoung is the loser, and Minghao is the winner. Who needs good parents when you just won my game?”

Minghao laughs good-naturedly, and the conversation goes on. Plates are cleared, and the sky beyond the windows gets dark, the room illuminated by the glow of lamps and Christmas lights.

“Hey, we should drink to the new year!” Soonyoung announces excitedly, standing up.

“Won’t we be doing that on New Year’s Eve?” Seungkwan asks, though he follows him in standing.

“Nah, most of us are going to be too drunk. I definitely will.”

“Fair enough.”

“Does everyone have a drink?” Minghao asks.

“I don’t,” Chan says, looking at his empty glass. “Is anyone going to complain at me if I have some champagne? I’m practically an adult already.”

“In one week,” Junhui sing-songs.

“Ah, what difference does a week make?” Minghao says, but both ultimately look to Soonyoung. Chan is already picking up the champagne bottle.

“I guess one glass is fine, huh?” Soonyoung says, watching Chan pour his flute full.

“That’s right!” he agrees, holding the flute up and watching the bubbles rise.

“Okay, does anyone have something for us to cheer for?” Seungkwan asks, as everyone around the table raise their own glasses. “Hyung? Our organiser?”

“Many things, too many to say,” Soonyoung says, sucking in through his teeth. “It’s been a good year. The Pink Dive has been going steady, and may she stay prosperous for the next year to come. I’ve met many new friends, some of them in this room; I wish you guys the best in your studies and lives over the next year. I hope you’ll make strong bonds with your families and get good grades on your assignments. My drag family have been working hard this year, too, and I hope the next year is kinder to you all. You deserve the most happiness.”

“And to you, Hyung,” Chan chimes in. “You’ve been working so hard at the Dive, and we all see it. I hope you know that you’re making a good impact. All your work is worth it. And thank you, for looking after me, and all of us this year.”

Soonyoung beams at him, both rows of teeth on display and eyes disappearing into happy lines. Minghao and Junhui make noises of agreement from across the table.

“Merry Christmas, everyone,” Jeonghan says, clinking his glass against the others in front of him. Chan suspects he’s tired of holding it up.

There’s a chorus of Merry Christmases and other festive greetings, and Chan finally tears his eyes away from Soonyoung’s bright expression to join in, taking a swig of his drink. Unfortunately, he’d forgotten about the champagne, and chokes when it’s halfway down, cringing through the sour taste. Seungkwan laughs at him, delighted, and Chan hits his arm, frowning at his drink and putting the glass down again. “Someone pour me something better than that for my birthday.”

Soonyoung starts blasting some obnoxiously loud Christmas music shortly after that, dragging Jeonghan and Minghao up to join him in his ridiculous dancing. Junhui and Seungkwan enthusiastically contribute their own moves in the limited space of the living room, and Chan even manages to persuade Jihoon into dancing with him too, though Jihoon pretends to make out like he hates it.

Soon, Jeonghan shifts over to bother Jihoon, and Seungkwan goes back into the kitchen to find more beer, and Junhui and Minghao become content with singing the Chinese lyrics to songs over the Korean ones. He’s left with Soonyoung, who’s jamming enthusiastically to Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, making him laugh with the way he’s over-doing it.

The song is abruptly changed to White Christmas, and they both look over to the sound system to see Seungkwan sitting there, swaying in anticipation. “Don’t you love this song?” he says, starting to scroll through the rest of the playlist with one hand, beer in the other.

Soonyoung frowns down at him. “What to do about this?” he asks, apparently rhetorically. He swiftly takes one of Chan’s hands in his own, his other going to his hip, bringing them together as if slow dancing, adapting to the pace of the new song. He giggles in response, putting his free hand on Soonyoung’s shoulder. There are tingles where Soonyoung’s hand is holding his side.

“Is it a romantic song? I don’t know the lyrics,” Chan asks. His face is pulled up close to Soonyoung’s, his cheeks hot, and he’s not quite sure where to look.

“I don’t know either,” he shrugs. “My English is shit.”

“Same,” he laughs. He rests his head on Soonyoung’s shoulder and lets him lead the dance, swaying the two of them around the room. “It’s a nice song, though.”

“Yeah, I suppose. I was enjoying Rudolph, though,” Soonyoung pouts, peeking over pointedly at Seungkwan, who blatantly ignores them.

“You might have to battle him for control over the playlist again.”

“Maybe I will,” Soonyoung says. “Do you want to join me? Two against one, I bet we could beat him.”

Soonyoung moves his hand at that moment, resettles it on Chan’s hip, only his shirt rides up a little, leaving half his hand holding onto bare skin. The feeling of it makes him take in a sharp breath, and the way his heart clenches reminds him of the way he’d felt around that senior boy, two years ago; it reminds him of being in the club with Wonho, the thrill it was to attract the attention of other boys; it reminds him of seeing Mark Lee on the street at fifteen, and thinking _wow, he’s kinda hot now_.

“I’m serious. If you distract him, I’ll tackle him.”

Chan looks up into his face and thinks, shit. I have a huge, heart-fluttering, life-ending crush on Kwon Soonyoung.

“I can hear you plotting, you know!” Seungkwan whines from the floor. “I’m not deaf!”

“Then you’ll be ready for this!” Soonyoung says, suddenly letting go of Chan to wrestle the phone out of Seungkwan’s hand. Seungkwan flails and yells in protest, keeping a firm hold on it and bringing Soonyoung down to the floor with him.

Chan watches them, wide-eyed and still. He has a crush on Soonyoung.

“Aha!” Soonyoung shouts, holding the phone up out of their tangle of limbs, victorious. “I have it!”

Oh, no.

-

His revelation, as earth-shattering as it had seemed at the time, hasn’t changed a whole lot. It’s also changed everything. He still gets butterflies whenever Soonyoung touches him or praises him or so much as looks at him, but now he knows exactly what it means, so it all seems worse, more intense, more real. It makes everything make sense, and he hates it.

They continue on as normal; Soonyoung seems to have no idea how he feels, nor does anyone else. The new year comes, making him an adult under Korean law, but it doesn’t stop Soonyoung from looking after him. He picks him up from school, makes sure he eats his meals and finishes his homework. During a particularly chilly weekend, when the snow covers Seoul thick and crisp and staunchly cold, Soonyoung whines at him for making his usual bed on the sofa.

“You’re going to freeze to death,” he grumbles, picking up his blankets. “And so am I.”

“What are you doing?” Chan asks, following him through into the bedroom.

“We’re sharing blankets,” Soonyoung says, dumping them on top of his own duvet. “Get in the bed.”

He tries not to think too hard about those words and crawls under the covers, Soonyoung getting in the other side of the bed. He’s right, of course; the warmth of two bodies under the covers is cosier than the old sofa would be, and it’s surprisingly easy to fall asleep to the sound of Soonyoung’s soft breaths. That doesn’t make his heart pound any less when he wakes up to Soonyoung’s arm over his chest, swollen face nestled into his shoulder, body slack with sleep. His heart aches, and then he slides out of bed, careful not to disturb him, focuses on getting ready for school.

So, things carry on as usual, only it’s all completely different. He’s fine. (He’s not fine.) He’s coping.

He graduates Junhui’s class, too, and considers the adult class, only he’s not quite comfortable with his parents paying for his classes continually into adulthood, when he doesn’t even live with them. He’ll revisit the idea when he’s earning his own money; it frees up more time for him to work on his routines, anyway. He needs all the free time he can get, what with finals approaching, with all the assignments and studying piling up, keeping him up late every night.

The work, at least, serves as a nice distraction from how his heart clenches whenever Soonyoung smiles at him. He’ll take anything he can to distract him from this crush—it’s at best inconvenient, and at worst, downright inappropriate. He lives with Soonyoung, and has for a while now; Soonyoung is five years older than him, a functioning adult, a business owner, and practically his guardian. Chan, meanwhile, is only just nineteen, still a high school student, and still living with Soonyoung, still dependant on him. There’s no way in a million years Soonyoung would ever return his feelings; the idea is downright laughable. So he’ll get on with it, and pretend his crush doesn’t exist. If he ignores it for long enough, the feelings will go away eventually.

He’s looking forward to his birthday party, because that means drinking, lots of drinking, and dancing, and working hard, until he passes out in the early hours. Maybe somewhere amongst all of that, he’ll forget about the sound of Soonyoung’s laugh, the way they’d danced together on Christmas Eve, the way his cheeks look puffy first thing in the morning.

Like he said. He’s coping.

-

Minghao’s birthday gift to him is a skimpy little dress, black and lacy and see through almost everywhere. Junhui’s is a pair of pretty heels; Soonyoung’s is a set of quality wigs, the sort he’d be pained to buy with his own income; Seungkwan’s, too, turns out to be a new palette. This means, of course, he has all the assets for a completely new look, and he must put them together for his birthday party. It pays off for the way people look her way, the compliments she gets the minute she steps into the Dive.

“_Happy Birthday to you!”_ Seokmin sings loudly as soon as he spots her. “_Happy Birthday to you!”_

“It’s okay, really, Oppa—”

“_Happy Birthday our Diva! Happy Birthday to you!”_

“Hey, we’re singing Happy Birthday at midnight,” Hoshi informs him from over Diva’s shoulder.

“I know!” Seokmin says brightly. “I just wanted to wish her one now!”

“Thanks,” she says, warmed. “Do you want to come and dance for a while?”

“Actually,” Hoshi says, touching her shoulder. “I have a surprise for you.”

She represses a shiver. “Another?”

“This one’s better than the present,” Hoshi smiles, taking her hand. “Come on.”

She’s led through the squash of people, the two of them snaking their way towards the backroom. Hoshi stops them in front of it.

“Hey,” she says, turning to face her.

“Yeah?”

She grins. “Happy Birthday.”

She pushes open the door to the backroom, and Diva peeks in, to see what Hoshi’s looking for. There, she’s met with the sight of Wonnie, dolled up and beautiful, standing in the middle of the room and smiling.

“Unnie!” she screams, running in to hug her as quickly as she can.

“Oh, baby!” Wonnie exclaims, accepting her hug enthusiastically enough to pick her up and swing her around once, heels leaving the floor with the power of her lift.

“You’re here!” Diva exclaims when she’s put down again, taking Wonnie’s cheeks in her hands and holding her face. “You’re real!”

“You bet I am!” Wonnie laughs, pulling her in for another hug. “I’ve missed you so much!”

“I missed you too! Don’t make me cry, please, this makeup took so long, oh, God…”

“You look wonderful,” Wonnie smiles, stroking her hair back. “You’ve really upgraded since I saw you last, huh?”

“Don’t act like I don’t send you pictures all the time! You already know I’m pretty good these days, right?”

“It’s one thing seeing it, and another experiencing it in person. You’re dazzling, darling.”

“Thanks,” she says, flushing. “You, of course, look as wonderful as ever.”

“I’d better. Hoshi is putting me in front of a proper crowd tonight.”

Diva turns back to Hoshi, who’s still stood in the doorway, watching them with affection written all over her face. “Really?”

“Ah, yes,” Hoshi says, clapping her hands together. “Did you get set up with Tiana?”

“Yes, I’m ready to go,” Wonnie confirms.

“You’re performing?” Diva gasps. “Really?”

“You bet, and it’s all for you, baby,” she grins, booping her nose. “You’d better get a good seat.”

“I’ll go up and introduce you. Listen out for me. Diva, let’s get you a front row seat, huh?”

Diva looks between them, open-mouthed.

“Enjoy the show,” Wonnie says, waving at her sweetly. Hoshi begins to guide her out of the room.

“You know I will!” she calls back, before she’s escorted back into the body of the club, sitting back down with her friends.

A minute or two later, she understands why Wonnie had declared the set to be for her. She starts off with a rather energetic, slutty version of the Happy Birthday song, one that has Diva jumping on the tips of her feet every time One Hoe slut drops, body rolls, or shakes her ass. It’s a tragedy Busan was a dead end for her drag career, because Wonnie is a fantastic entertainer, and one of the best people she knows.

Every song, as it turns out, is hand-picked. There’s a song by an artist they both like, one of her favourites; a song she recognises from the first time they’d seen drag together, one of the addictive tracks from RisKey’s set; and a song she’d danced to recently, one that she’d filmed and sent to Wonnie upon her request.

It’s for her. It’s a gift.

She’s the first to applaud for her at the end, the first to meet her off stage, the first to congratulate and thank and praise her. She’s overwhelmed, knowing that Wonnie prepared all this for her, even though they haven’t been able to meet in such a long time.

“I love you, you know,” she says, hugging her tight.

“Oh, I know,” Wonnie says, grin in her voice, sweat on her palms that she doesn’t try to keep off Diva’s dress. “How could you not?”

They sing Happy Birthday at midnight, and she narrowly avoids Joshua smashing cake in her face. In retaliation, she scoops up a handful of the cream and runs after him with it, dodging patrons only to land it on his neck and cheek. Good enough.

“Okay, drinks!” Rina calls, Hoshi beckoning them back to the table. “Someone get the birthday girl a drink!”

“Shots!” Seokmin shouts, pushing them across the table. “She has to have a shot!”

“Alright,” she says, picking up one of the shot glasses. “That’s what I’m talking about!”

“To Diva, and to Chan,” Hoshi says, raising her own glass. “Finally old enough to drink, but you’ll always be our baby!”

She grimaces, and Seungkwan laughs at her. “Is that the best you could do?”

“Alright, Happy Birthday to the baby,” Hoshi says, and they all clink their glasses together before drinking. Diva downs the shot with success, surprised to find it not as bitter as she’d expected. Then a few seconds later, the aftertaste permeates her mouth, and yeah, there it is.

“Alright! I want to see everyone up and dancing!” Hoshi says. “Let’s go and have some fun!”

The night starts to pass quickly, in dances with each friend, in more drinks, in song requests and bites of birthday cake. She laughs with Wonnie and does her best to ask questions over the volume of the music; how long is she in Seoul? Where is she staying? How long has she been preparing the routine?

“I’m actually here with family,” she says, arms resting on Diva’s shoulders as they dance together. “We’re here for a few weeks, and I convinced them to come a few days early so I could be here for this. I’ve been working on it since Hoshi asked me to come and perform for your birthday, so a few weeks, maybe?”

“Hoshi organised this?” She looks around the room for her, but her bright red fox outfit is, somehow, lost in the crowd.

“Yeah,” Wonnie smiles. “I was planning on coming back for your nineteenth anyway, but she was the one who suggested the performance.”

“Wow,” she says, looking around again, and this time, the red fox ears peek over the heads of a group of dancing girls. Hoshi is intertwined with Rina, and she’s surprisingly well matched with her blue dress and blonde braided doll concept. The two look like the Korean flag, with how closely they’re pressed together.

The sight reminds her the way Hoshi would dance with Joshua, hand holding onto his shirt or his hair or his ass, making her intentions clear. It reminds her of dark marks on Soonyoung’s neck, indicating that Joshua had been in the apartment. It reminds her of being an unwilling third wheel all last year.

“Hey,” she says, turning back to Wonnie. “Do you want to make out?”

“What?” Wonnie laughs.

“You know, as friends. It’s my birthday, and I’ve not been kissed yet. I think it’s an injustice.”

Wonnie laughs at her again. “Baby, are you drunk?”

“I’m not that drunk.” She rolls her eyes. “I just wanna make out a little. It’s okay; I’ll see if Seokmin wants to, or something.”

“No, no,” Wonnie tuts. “He’s too innocent. I don’t think I could witness you two trying to make out.”

“So, what? You want me to be boring on my birthday?”

Wonnie smiles. “We can kiss a little. No strings attached, right?”

“Right,” she agrees, looking at Wonnie’s lips, pink and glossy. “Of course.”

“Good,” she says, before leaning in, pressing a kiss to Diva’s mouth.

It’s a little strange at first, getting used to the pressure, the way her tongue feels against her mouth. But then she gets into the rhythm of it, and it feels much better than the kisses she had as a kid, a million years away from Sungyeon at the school dance or Mark Lee on the football field. This is good, hot and easy, sends pleasant tingles through her skin.

She’s left disappointed when Wonnie pulls away. “Oh, hey, you’re pretty good at that.”

She laughs again, carefree and taking Diva in her arms, urging her to dance to the beat again. “You’re not amazing at it, but I believe in your ability to improve.”

“Hey!”

“It’s constructive criticism! You can do anything you set your mind to! Just practise on a TV remote, or something.”

“Ew!” She cringes, hard. “Do you know how many people have handle those things? Do you know how little they’re cleaned?”

Wonnie shakes her head. “You worry too much, darling. Sometimes you just have to live your life and damn the consequences.”

“You just told me to kiss the TV remote. I’m not taking any advice from you.”

They dance on, and she tries hard not to look over Wonnie’s shoulder, to where she last saw Hoshi and Rina. She fails, of course, spots them grinding on each other on the dance floor, Rina’s dress bunched up in Hoshi’s hands.

She looks away. Tries not to think about it.

-

He knows something is wrong the moment he rolls out of bed, a distinct pain in his gut, the clock showing it to be three hours before he should be getting up for school. He makes his way through to the bathroom, and the apartment is dark and empty, Soonyoung still not back from his night’s work at the Dive. He sits on the toilet and wonders if he needs to throw up. Tries to think back to what he ate yesterday, if there was anything new or suspicious in his diet. When neither of these yield any results, he washes his hands, takes some painkillers, and goes back to bed.

He can’t sleep, though, the strange pain firmly residing in his stomach until sunrise. He hears Soonyoung come in, take a shower, and make himself some food, before coming into the bedroom.

“Channie,” he says, shaking him gently. “You need to get ready for school.”

He opens his eyes with the full intent to tell Soonyoung he feels bad, that he wants to take a sick day, for the first time in years. His intuitions tell him this isn’t a stomach-ache; they’re telling him not to go in today. But then he looks up at Soonyoung, leaning over him, and sees how tired and worn he is; if Chan stays off school today, he runs the risk of infecting Soonyoung, taking his bed, and forcing him to stay awake longer than he already has.

“Okay,” he says, forcing himself to sit up, picking his heavy head up off the pillow.

Soonyoung pats his shoulder and takes the space Chan vacates, flopping onto the mattress.

He shouldn’t have come in today. He’d convinced himself he’d be okay, when walking in, that maybe he could put up with this for the length of the school day. Then he’d gotten into his first class, and the noise of the classroom was like a drill working its way through his skull, all fresh pain and a complete distraction from the sums on the board.

He somehow makes it through the morning classes, and does his best to eat a bit of food at lunch time, but he can’t stomach more than a few bites. He spends most of his lunch break in the bathroom, convinced he might finally throw up, maybe get it out of his system. He doesn’t. He just feels worse.

It’s literature class that does it. Despite the amount of times Jungseok has been blatantly involved in incidents around school, he’s somehow still here, in the seat next to him.

“Had any clients lately?” he asks, jostling him as if he’s a friend.

He ignores the jab, watching the teacher write in careful cursive on the board, tries not to let it make him dizzy.

“I hear your line of work makes good money.”

He’s kind of lost track of Jungseok’s line of bullying this late into the school year. He’s playing on the idea of Chan being a prostitute, maybe?

“Or is it not you that gets the money? That guy is like your pimp, right?”

He bites his tongue, grips his pen hard, wonders where the sudden urge to cry came from. It’s been a while since he’s cried now, and things as small as taunts from Jungseok don’t usually get to him like that.

“Maybe you like it. Maybe you do it for free.”

It’s the sickness, he recognises. It’s the way his stomach feels like it’s eating away at itself; it’s the weight in his head, crammed with something awful and pounding. If he stays around to hear this, he’s only going to cry, or throw up, and as tempting as it is to throw up on Jungseok, he can’t do this today. So he picks up his bag, not stopping for his notebook and pens, and leaves the classroom. He thinks the teacher calls after him, but he doesn’t really care; walks through the school corridors until he reaches an exit, and leaves without hesitation, without looking back.

The heat outside doesn’t do him any favours, though. He feels a little faint as soon as he leaves the school grounds, the warm spring day seeping in through his uniform and making him sweat. He walks until he reaches the tram stop, jumps on it, and watches as the streets trundle by. No one questions why he’s out of school at this time; maybe he looks as sick as he is. He tries not to fall asleep to the lull of the tram rocking, tries to remember where he’s going. He looks around for the tram number, realises he’s accidentally got on the one that takes him back to his parents’ house. He could get off, call Soonyoung to come and pick him up. He checks the time; it’s mid-afternoon. Soonyoung will be at the Dive around now, cleaning and getting it ready for tonight. He shouldn’t disturb his work. He shouldn’t be more of a burden.

But this tram will go through Hongdae, anyway. He’ll get off at the club and wait for Soonyoung to be done, to give him a lift home. He hopes he won’t be too mad that he skipped school.

The Dive feels strange when it’s empty, no people, no staff, no lights or music. It feels like a ghost town, or an abandoned building. Wrong.

“Chan?” Soonyoung’s looking at him from across the room, where he’s cleaning down the bar. “What are you doing here?”

What is he doing here? “I feel bad,” he says, letting the door swing shut behind him. One foot in the front of the other, go over to him, find a chair to sit down on.

“What? Are you sick?”

“Yeah.” He reaches the bar and rests his arms on it, supporting his weight.

“Hey,” Soonyoung says, rounding the bar. “You do look kinda bad. What is it?” He puts the back of his hand to his forehead. “Jesus, you’re hot.”

Chan burps, and he can taste the acid coming up his throat.

“Oh, no,” Soonyoung says, suddenly panicking. “Please don’t be sick—”

Chan promptly throws up all over the bar, in one overwhelming retch that makes his head hurt and his throat burn. Soonyoung is on the other side of the bar again, picking up a bucket and shoving it at him. “Please throw up in there! Please!”

He manages to take the order in, and sits on the floor, clutching his bucket. Waiting for the next wave of nausea doesn’t take long, and this time he aims.

“Oh, baby boy,” Soonyoung says, distraught. “Oh, no, this is not good.”

Soonyoung sits beside him, stroking his sweaty hair and cringing at the sound of the sick hitting the bucket. “What are we going to do with you, huh?”

He’s not sure how much time passes, but he’s at a recess with the vomiting when he hears the door to the club swing open. He daren’t move for fear of upsetting his stomach further, so he leaves it to Soonyoung to deal with.

“Hao?” he says, and Chan feels his eyes slide shut. He’s so tired.

“Hyung?” Minghao asks, soft footsteps approaching them. “Are you guys okay?”

“Chan’s been throwing up, so I don’t think so.”

“Oh, no,” he coos, crouching down. Chan can feel his hand on his arm. “What’s wrong?” He pushes back Chan’s hair to feel his forehead.

“I don’t know, he just came in saying he felt bad. Then he threw up over the bar.”

Minghao sighs, patting Chan’s arm. He sways a little with the touch. “Looks like Chan and I won’t be performing tonight, Hyung.”

He wants to protest, to cry, to kick and whine and say no, I want to perform! But the rational side of himself is very aware that there’s no way he’s performing tonight. He wants nothing more than to go home and sleep this off.

“Are you going to take him home?” Soonyoung asks, anxious.

“You need to be here to run the place, and he can’t be on his own right now, so he can stay the night at mine. I’ll tell Junhui to get here as soon as he gets off work. You might have to call Seungkwan in to help out, too.”

Seungkwan? But if Seungkwan comes in tonight, he’ll flirt with Soonyoung again, and he doesn’t want that. He can see where it’s headed, and he doesn’t like it. He groans, and Minghao looks back at him, brushes the hair out of his eyes. “It’s okay. Come on, let’s get you into a bed, okay? Are you done throwing up?”

He thinks so. He doesn’t have anything left in him to come up. “Yeah.”

“Then let’s go.”

Minghao pulls on his arm to help him stand, muscles heavy and head pounding. Soonyoung comes to his other side, hovering as if he might fall over. It might have something to do with the way he’s wobbling as he walks.

“Hey,” Soonyoung says, as they make their way out of the entrance. “Call me if you need anything. I can come if you need me.”

“Sure,” Minghao answers, before guiding Chan to sit in the passenger seat. The inside of his car is hot, and he feels so sleepy. Minghao leans over him to buckle him in, and then he’s gone, shutting the door behind him to get in the other side.

The door opens again a second later. It’s Soonyoung, crouching beside him. He clasps one of his hands, and kisses the back of it, looking up at him. “Feel better, okay?”

He doesn’t have the energy to do anything other than nod, but he wishes he could smile at the gesture. It was sweet, maybe the gentlest he’s ever seen him. Soonyoung shuts the door carefully and backs away as Minghao starts the engine up, and watches them go with concern on his face.

Despite the heat and the gentle rocking of the car, he can’t fall asleep. He can only sit there, boneless, blinking heavily as the streets go by.

“This isn’t anything bad, is it?” Minghao asks. “It’s just the flu, or something?”

He shrugs. Probably.

“How long have you been feeling like this?”

“Since this morning,” he croaks out, voice scratchy from the throwing up.

“You can tell someone, you know, when you feel bad, or you need help. You don’t have to bear everything on your own.”

The car comes to a stop, and he looks around, dazed. They’re here.

“Is everything okay?” Minghao asks.

Chan bursts into tears.

“Oh, no, Channie,” Minghao says, unbuckling his seatbelt and leaning over to take Chan into his arms.

“I miss my Mom,” he says, and cries harder, because he hadn’t realised that had been true until just now, isn’t sure where this huge feeling of longing has come from, scooping a hole out of his chest.

“Oh, baby,” Minghao murmurs. “That’s okay. Do you want me to call her?”

He shakes his head.

“Okay. I think you need some sleep. Come on.”

He eases Chan’s head off his shoulder, and gets out of the car at his side. Chan watches him go, tears streaming down his face. A moment later, he reappears at Chan’s side of the car, and pulls him out.

They make it up to the apartment, somehow. He can’t see much for the tears, but Minghao is there the whole time to hold him, to guide him into a big, soft bed.

It gets a little blurry from there on. There’s a bucket next to the bed, a cold flannel on his forehead, Junhui’s voice fades in and out. There’s sheets under him and over him, light passing by in a dark room, warm hands on his, a gentle voice in his ear.

He comes to when it’s night outside, and he feels sweaty all over, but the pain is gone, the terrible hurt in his stomach finally eased.

“Hey,” Minghao says, and he turns his head to see him sitting beside him on the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Slightly less shit,” Chan rasps, and coughs.

“I have this, if you want it,” Minghao says, picking a mug up from the side. “You’ll have to sit up, though.”

“What is it?”

“Chinese herbal remedy,” he says. “I think your fever is getting slightly better, but it can’t hurt.”

He struggles to sit up against the headboard, his limbs still feeling heavy, dragging against him. He manages to reach out for the mug and take a sip.

They don’t speak for a minute, and the quiet of the dark room is soothing against his aching head.

“Do you miss home that much?” Minghao murmurs.

He hums. “Not all the time. Just times when it’s bad.”

Minghao nods. “And today was pretty bad, huh.”

He grimaces. “Can you tell Soonyoung I’m sorry for throwing up on his bar? I’m pretty sure he’d just cleaned it.”

“You and I both know Soonyoung would never take an apology for something like that.”

“Yeah, but I can try.”

Minghao smiles. “You two balance each other out pretty well. I bet he’s lost without you there tonight.”

Chan looks down at his mug. “Nah. He’s going to call Seungkwan.”

Minghao reaches a hand out to stroke his hair, soft and soothing. “You two aren’t interchangeable, though. You aren’t replaceable.”

He nods, shutting his eyes. “Yeah.”

They sit there in silence until he finishes his drink, hands the mug back to Minghao. “Good job,” he says, approvingly. “You want anything to eat?”

He shakes his head, moving to lie down again. “Not yet. Next time I wake up, maybe.” His eyelids are already dropping again, and Minghao’s pillows are so soft.

“Okay,” he says, still stroking his hair. “Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“Can I pray for you before you go to sleep?”

Chan’s eyes open again, blinking up at him. “Why?”

Minghao stokes his hair slower. “Because I want you to feel better.”

He frowns. “God won’t answer, though.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I’m gay, and you’re gay. We need saving first. That’s what the Church says.”

Minghao’s hand stills in his hair. He pauses for so long that Chan almost falls asleep before he speaks again. “I don’t believe in the Church. I believe in God. And he wouldn’t be a very good God if he excluded people who want to be in love, would he?”

It’s hard to process that through his sickness-addled brain, and he just blinks back at Minghao. “I guess so.”

“You don’t need to be saved from anything, Channie. You’re just fine as you are.” He leans down to kiss his forehead. “I won’t pray for you if you don’t want me to.”

“I don’t mind.” He doesn’t think God would abandon someone like Minghao, with his heart of gold, with his difficult past and his hardworking present. “You can if you like.”

“Okay,” he says, resting one hand on Chan’s forehead and taking his hand with the other.

The touch is nice, grounds him. Minghao starts speaking somewhere over his head, but the rhythm of it is soothing, low and melodic enough to send him into a seamless sleep.

-

When he gets back to the apartment it’s to find Soonyoung’s bed rumpled and messy, hickeys on his collarbone and one of Seungkwan’s wigs left in the bathroom, so it’s easy to know what’s happened. It’s also absolutely maddening to know that he’d predicted this, and yet here he is, still in the situation he’d so dreaded.

His sickness passes over the weekend, so he apologises to the teacher he’d stormed out on, and sits through detention for it. The school year continues, boring, but not without event—in one memorable incident, he goes out grocery shopping with Soonyoung, only to have a familiar voice call after him in the frozen aisle.

“Chan?”

He turns to see none other than Hwayoung, his Youth group leader. It’s strange to see her outside of the church venue, displaced from her natural habitat. “Teacher?”

“Lee Chan…” she says, as if she’s seeing a ghost. She looks over to Soonyoung, who’s curiously watching the exchange.

“Is this one of your teachers?” he asks Chan, bowing in a polite greeting.

“Um,” he says, but Hwayoung talks over him.

“Chan, there’s still time for you to come back to God,” she says, clutching her frozen peas passionately. “He will always forgive you. There’s time for you to make things right with your parents—you don’t know how much they’ve been through. You don’t have to be afraid.”

“Ah,” Soonyoung says, hooking his arm around Chan’s elbow and taking their cart with his other hand. “I think we should carry on shopping.”

“God can still save you, Chan!” she shouts after them, turning a few heads around them. “No matter what you’ve done!”

So, yeah. Life carries on as normal.

Somehow he pushes through his finals, with little sleep and lots of stress. Between the hiatus from the Dive and the overwhelming hours in the school library, it’s perhaps the most miserable he’s been since he’d left home. But he does it, and comes out with the grades to prove it. Not that he cares much to do anything with them, and the bit of paper he’s handed them on feels like too little, a small payoff for such work. Soonyoung’s delight, though, his praise and pleasure over a few letters on a page make him feel like maybe he’s done something good. Regardless, it means he’s officially free. Summer starts, and may it never end, may he feel this free forever.

He sees his parents again at graduation, waving at him from the stands, cheering when his name is called out. He couldn’t be more grateful for them, for their hard work in adapting and changing, just for him. Even if they can’t fully see eye to eye, he can still enjoy their company, can still feel that they love him. Maybe one day, he’ll even be able to feel like he’s made them proud.


	4. Chapter 4

Freedom from school means full time work at the Dive until he can find another job, performances three times a week and posts behind the bar or on the sound system when necessary. He doesn’t mind it; it’s what he loves, after all, dancing and singing and being in this place of tolerance and fun. It’s fine, really. There’s just one speedbump in his otherwise smooth nights.

Seungkwan has decided to drop out of University and move to Seoul permanently, to pursue his drag career full time. Soonyoung helps him secure an apartment, and he, too, starts to perform at the Dive three nights a week, as well as some performances at other clubs, too. Chan loves Seungkwan, he really does, and under other circumstances this would be an amazing opportunity for the two of them to have fun, spending their nights together. Only right now Seungkwan and Soonyoung have a tendency of becoming attached to each other at any given time, leaving behind marks and lipstick kisses and lingering looks, and he can’t stand it. He’s really trying to be impartial, trying to treat Seungkwan as he normally would. It’s not his fault Chan is shit at controlling his feelings, after all. But it’s hard. It exhausts him.

It doesn’t help that Seungkwan finds a job within his first few weeks back in Seoul, even though Chan has been looking for months, ever since finishing his last exams. It’s infuriating, really, how Seungkwan has strengths everywhere he has weaknesses. How he presses where it hurts without even knowing he’s doing it. Seungkwan, of course, doesn’t get it. All he wants to do is praise Chan and dance with him and have good times during these long nights, but he has a hard time humouring him.

“You okay, Diva?” Rina asks, coming over to where she’s manning the sound system.

“I’m fine,” she says, truthfully. She’s monitoring Hoshi’s performance at the moment, checking all the levels are okay, and it’s not hard work.

“You seem a little down today,” Rina pouts, running a hand along her arm comfortingly. “Is the job hunt still getting you down?”

“Uh huh,” she says, fiddling with the dials.

“Hey, I can put a word in for you at my café, if you like? They’re still looking for other workers.”

As tempting as that is, she’s not sure she’d be able to stand being with Rina for every hour of the day, every day. She’s at her limit as it is. “It’s okay, Unnie. I’ll figure it out.”

“Okay,” Rina says, uncertain. “Do you want another drink?”

She shakes her head, tries for a smile, hopes Rina is convinced.

As the months go on, and the failed interviews pile up, his heart grows heavier. He’d been so determined to help Soonyoung out financially as soon as he could, that it’s the most frustrating thing to be still living with him, still dependant on him, still taking money from work at his club. It’s not only about being able to compensate him, either. He’s anxious to be able to move out for himself as soon as possible, now that he’s able to. He’s afraid Soonyoung might never see him as his own person, otherwise; afraid he’ll never be able to stand on his own two feet, like he’d promised he would.

Then Chuseok comes, and his Mom calls.

“Hey, my Dino,” she starts, and her voice through the phone is like the best type of blanket, warm and soft and so comforting.

“Hey, Mommy,” he replies, putting down the dress he’d been taking in. “What’s up?”

“It’s been a little while,” she says. “We miss you. What have you been up to?”

“Well,” he murmurs. “A few things. I was actually thinking of coming home this Chuseok. Maybe I could tell you then?”

“Oh, Channie,” she breathes. “I’d like for nothing more.”

Chuseok this year is being held at his Grandmother’s house, which means a car trip with only his parents, and it’s actually kind of okay. Relaxing, even; it reminds him of holidays when he was younger, playing with his dinosaurs in the back, excited to stay at a new place for a couple of days. They gently poke at the University conversation until he makes it clear he’s not interested, before asking him instead about the jobs he’s looking for, the places he’s applied to. It’s the easiest conversation they’ve had since he left home.

The scene at the house is different. Most of his extended family are already there, crammed into Grandma’s tiny apartment, talking and laughing and going ahead with the celebrations. He doesn’t miss the heads turned his way when he walks in; he certainly doesn’t miss the auntie that wails his name as soon as he’s a foot through the doorway.

“Channie! We thought we’d never see you again!”

“I didn’t die, Auntie,” he says, bearing the force of her hug.

“What happened? Why didn’t you come to see us these past two years?”

He inclines his head, wondering how to sum everything up. “I’ve had a pretty hard time. But things are better now. So here I am.”

“Well, it’s wonderful to see you—here, I’ve brought your birthday present from earlier in the year, you might as well take it—”

And just like that, he’s back.

He’d thought he should come back to family gatherings because it was the right thing to do, out of obligation more than want. What he didn’t expect was for it to be surprisingly fun. It’s great catching up with his cousins, who don’t ask too many questions of him, but are happy to talk about their careers or their girlfriends or their new kids. The new kids, especially; he sees a lot of baby pictures, all of which look identical, to him. He coos appropriately anyway.

“If you’re looking for jobs, I can recommend some good sites,” one of his cousins, Minhyuk, says.

“Yes, please,” he says, taking out his phone to note down the site Minhyuk pulls up. “Though I think I’m signed up to just about all of the job hunting sites anyway.”

“It’s that bad, huh? What are you looking for particularly?”

“Honestly, anything,” he says. “Just not a night job. It’s weird how little work there is for a high school graduate; I guess everywhere wants experience, or a degree.”

“Why not night work?” Seunghee asks, bouncing her toddler on her knee. “Night shifts at convenience stores and stuff aren’t a bad option to start with.”

“Ah, I already have a night job,” he explains, aware of the aunties standing around listening in on the conversation, including his Mom.

“Really? What are you doing?”

“I perform. I graduated my dance class at the beginning of the year, and I’ve been using my experience to dance in clubs a couple nights a week.”

“You didn’t tell me you were dancing!” an auntie exclaims, looking at his mom expectantly. “Where can we come and see you, Channie?”

“It’s not like a dance showcase, Auntie,” he explains, scratching his head. “It’s club dancing; I get up on stage in fancy outfits and dance to loud music. You know, modern stuff.”

“So it’s inappropriate, is what you’re saying,” Seunghee says, a glint in her eye.

“No!” he protests, weakly. “It’s just… not the ballet performance Auntie might be thinking of.”

Mom is watching him, looking anxious. “But this is a side thing, right? You’ll be moving on when you find another job?”

“No, actually,” he replies. “I’d like to keep this alongside another job. It’s not terrible pay, and I love it a lot. I just need another job to support me properly.”

He starts to twitch under the way Seunghee is looking at him, all too knowing. He’s under the assumption that his whole family know he’s gay, because it’s been two years and gossip like that could never be contained within a family. Regardless, he didn’t come prepared for the idea that some of them might actually understand gay culture, might have an idea of where it starts and what it entails.

“What’s this? Chan is dancing?” Grandma makes her appearance between two tall uncles, shuffling over to take a seat in her armchair. The cousin that was sat in it hops out like it’s burned him. “Is that where you’ve been?”

“Ah,” he says, eyes flickering to his Mom. “Something like that.”

“Junghee said you’d been off with boys,” she mutters. Chan is painfully aware of the fact that most of the room is listening to the conversation, now. “Are you attracted to men, Chan? Is it true?”

He takes a shaking breath in. “Yeah, Grandma.”

She nods. “Hm.” There’s a pause, like she’s considering this. “Well then, aren’t you going to show us what you’ve been dancing to? It’s better be good, if you’ve been gone so long.”

He blinks, stumbling over his words. “I, uh—I can? What do you want to see?”

“Dancing!” Grandma huffs, squinting at him behind her glasses. “Come on! Show us something!”

“Erm,” he fumbles, standing and pushing the table back to make room for himself. He’s somewhat baffled by this path of conversation, but far prefers this to a lecture about immoral sexuality. “Do you know Blood Sweat & Tears? That really popular song from this year?”

He’s more asking his cousins than his Grandma, and he’s relieved when they react.

“Of course!” Seunghee says.

“I know the chorus dance. Does anyone have the song?”

“Hey, I’ll just sing it for you,” Minhyuk offers.

Chan eyes him, doubtful; there’s no real lyrics in the chorus, just a drop. Minhyuk looks enthusiastic, though, so he lets him count him in.

“_Blood, sweat, and tears_!” Minhyuk shouts enthusiastically, as Chan does the sensual neck grabbing move.

What follows is a series of sounds that he supposes is meant to be the noise of the EDM instrumental part, mostly just Minhyuk singing terribly and making high noises. Chan laughs as he follows through on the choreography, because Minhyuk is surprisingly on time with the beat. It makes their cousins and some of the elders laugh too, instantly putting him more at ease as the room focuses more on Minhyuk’s rendition of the song than on Chan’s dancing.

“_Want it more, more, more! Du du du du du du du du_!”

“Hey! You’re spoiling the performance!” Seunghee compains loudly. The toddler on her lap watches Chan with rapt attention.

“It’s okay, that’s all I know anyway,” Chan says, wrapping up the dance with pink cheeks. There’s a polite applause as he goes back to his seat hastily.

“What did you think, Grandma?” Minhyuk asks with a smile, but the question makes Chan wait with bated breath.

She wrinkles her nose. “It’s not worth two years of waiting. Don’t do that next time, Lee Chan.”

Then she stands, muttering something about checking on the food. Chan can’t help it; he smiles, relieved and light, and bows to her, strangely comforted by those words. Thinks that maybe that was what he needed to hear.

“Thanks, Grandma.”

It’s strange, because he has to give his dad Soonyoung’s address on the way home, for him to be dropped off at the right place. It’ll be the first time they see where he’s been living this whole time.

“Hey, Dino,” his mom asks. The car is warm, and the night is dark, and he’s half-asleep on a full stomach and an exhausting evening. He doesn’t regret going, though. Everything had been, well. Fine.

“Yeah?” he asks, drowsy, watching the streetlights pass.

“Can we come and see you dance sometime? At your work?”

He turns his head. “At the club?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?”

His dad makes a noise of agreement. “You’re an amazing dancer wherever you are. Why didn’t you tell us you were dancing professionally before now?”

“I don’t know if you’d call it professional,” he says. “I mean, it’s paid, but it’s at a gay club, and I do all the choreography myself. It’s not like I’m being commissioned.”

There’s a few seconds of silence, and he can practically see them sizing up the uncomfortable words _gay club_. “Still,” Mom continues, somewhat less sure of herself now. “It’s your work, and your passion. We want to support you.”

“Okay,” he replies, tries not to let his voice sound too small. “I’ll let you know when I’m next working.”

“Thanks, baby.”

When they arrive at the apartment, he can tell they have something else to ask.

“Hey,” his dad says as he shuffles over to the car door. “Should we say hello to your flatmate?”

He tries not to show his surprise, not so much at their interest in Soonyoung as at their use of _flatmate._ “He’ll be out at the club right now, actually. He owns the place.”

“Ah, that’s the business he owns?”

Chan nods. “Another time, though. He’d be happy to meet you.”

“Good. We’ll make it happen.”

“Sure,” he says, opening the car door. “Bye. I love you.”

“Love you too, baby.”

He agonises over it until Soonyoung shakes him, asking what it is that’s distracting him from Soonyoung’s very important rundown of the best episodes of Drag Race.

“My parents want to come and see me perform,” he says. He’s laid out on his back on the sofa, taking up all the seating, the optimal place for a crisis/ignoring Soonyoung session. “At the Dive.”

“Oh,” Soonyoung says. “I see.”

“They want to come and see me dance, actually,” he corrects. “I didn’t give them the details about the drag thing.”

“Ah. That makes more sense.”

“I don’t know what to do,” he whines, throwing his arm over his face dramatically. “I want to tell them about it, because it’s a part of my life. But I don’t want to do it at the risk of going backwards with them. I’m too scared of going back to not talking to them properly, because they don’t want to know about who I am, now.”

Soonyoung shoves at him until he sits up, flopping against the backrest of the sofa, making space for him to sit. “They’ve shown they’re open to trying. They’ve come to accept you, kind of! In their own, restrained way.”

“They’re trying,” he agrees. “They’ve stopped talking about God around me. It’s an improvement. But I don’t want to threaten all that because I put on women’s clothes sometimes.”

Soonyoung sticks out his lips, in thought. “But if you don’t, won’t you be thinking about it every time you talk? It’s not like you’re forcing it on them; they’re the ones that have asked to come and see you. They’re trying. Why turn them away at the door? Even if it goes badly, you worked hard to get to this place with them. They won’t abandon you, just like you haven’t abandoned them.”

“Maybe,” he says, looking down at his feet. “Maybe.”

After another day or two of fretting, he comes to trust Soonyoung. After everything, surely this won’t be the thing to break them.

He sends his mom the slot times for his next performance, along with one of his videos, to give them forewarning of what they’re getting themselves into. _Please watch this with dad,_ he types. _and decide if you want to come. I will understand if you don’t_

Then comes half an hour of head-slamming anxiety in waiting for a response. He walks around the apartment maybe a thousand times, starts making food only to abandon it, systematically works through his wardrobe to find the most appropriate outfit for the potential performance. Then his phone pings.

_We will be there!_

It’s like something from a dream, or a nightmare, seeing her parents walking into the Dive the next night. It’s so very odd, not only because they’re her Christian almost-estranged parents, standing in the middle of his crush/flatmate’s/not-legal guardian’s gay club, but because they’re so starkly out of place. Most of their patrons are in their twenties or thirties; his parents are a clear generation above that, overdressed for their surroundings and clearly very uncomfortable.

She’s standing on the other side of the club in full drag, looking at them, paralysed. All she needs to do is go over and greet them, sit them by Seokmin with a smile and get ready for the show. Everyone loves Seokmin. He’ll make them feel comfortable. But she’s painfully aware of the long blonde hair down her back, the red dress that stops at her thighs. The heels, the nails, the striking eye makeup. The way she looks so different; she sees herself through their eyes, and she’s not sure they’ll like what they see.

“Hey,” Soonyoung says, appearing at her elbow. He’s out of drag for tonight, supposed to be working behind the bar, so she’s surprised to see him here, looking at her gently instead. “You want me to come with you?”

It’s hard to know what to say. Yes, they want to meet you, and I desperately need the support! No, I couldn’t think of anything worse, please go away!

“Uh huh,” she says, not taking her eyes off the way her parents are making their way across the dance floor uncertainly.

Soonyoung takes her hand, and the touch is nice. “I can always kick them out if they’re upset. It’s my club, after all. No worries. It’ll be fine.”

She almost laughs. Is that meant to be comforting? But then Soonyoung starts pulling on her hand, and any thoughts of laughing flee her. She has no choice but to follow after him.

“Mrs. Lee? Mr Lee?” Soonyoung calls politely, though they don’t hear it over the thumping of the music. Then they get closer, and Diva touches her dad on the arm.

When he turns, his mom follows, and she can tell they don’t recognise her at first. “Hey!” she says, resorting to their familiarity with her voice. “I’m glad you could make it.”

The way they stare is almost comedic. She would laugh if she weren’t about to die from the way her heart is beating so fast. “This is Soonyoung, my Hyung,” she says instead, diverting their attention.

Mom’s gaze snaps up quickly, taking in Soonyoung. “Hi!” he greets enthusiastically, bowing properly and then holding out a hand for them to shake. “Welcome to the Dive! You’re going to enjoy what Channie has lined up, it’s a real performance!”

“Yes,” Dad says, shaking his hand firmly and looking between them. “Quite. Yes.”

“Hey, you should come and sit over here, it has a better view,” she says, starts walking over to their usual table, where Seokmin is sat with Jeonghan and Joshua, who are under strict instructions to behave.

“Hello!” Seokmin leaps up to greet them, all bright smile and bright personality. “Wow, it is so nice to meet you!”

She takes her opportunity to escape as they’re shaking hands with the others, stalking over to grab her mic from Tiana. July is already on standby, ready to kick off the performances, and anxious not to wait any longer, she gives her the thumbs up. July nods back encouragingly, and takes to the stage to warm up the crowd.

“Hey,” Soonyoung says, catching up with her. “You’ve got this, you know.”

“Uh huh,” she says, trying not to feel short of breath.

“Diva,” he says, putting his hands on her shoulders and looking into her eyes. “Believe me. You’ve got this.”

It’s hard to meet his eyes back—getting increasingly hard, these days, to withstand his friendly touches and kind looks—but she’s grateful for it nonetheless, and puts her hand on his arm to let him know. “Thank you.”

“So, without any further ado,” July says, and Diva grips her mic, hard.

“Good luck,” Soonyoung says.

“Diva Saur!”

She smiles, thinking about her parents hearing that name, the evolution she’s become. This version of Chan, so different to what they know, but still a part of their son. A self she likes very much.

The set tonight has been, obviously, toned down from her usual vigour. There’s nothing sexy and only the lightest of sensual songs, attempting to focus on her dance skills as much as possible. The songs are still exciting and club appropriate, of course, so even as the opening notes of the first EDM song comes through the speakers, the crowd is already responsive to her.

It’s not hard to get into the right headspace. Once she starts dancing, she can disconnect from her own head, from the reality of her friends and family and crush watching her. At its core, dance is a relationship with herself, a space entirely her own. She can spread her arms out wide and feel the freedom of the stage; she can spin without worry, hearing the cheering in a distant sort of way. They audience don’t really matter; it’s the way she moves that she’s in love with. The space. The quiet self in a room of noise; the expression, unbridled.

She could’ve gone without the mic for the first song, but she doesn’t like the break of having to go and grab it between songs. Instead, she’s chosen to go straight from the first track into the second, singing her heart out to the fun pop song as she follows through with the choreography.

“_Press my number_!” she sings, and she can see Rina coming forwards in the crowd, jumping and cheering for her. Does the sharp moves that accompany the chorus, knows them like the back of her hand. “_Do it fast, do it slow, you control the tempo.”_ The crowd can sing along a little, too, because this song is popular. It’s nice, reminds her that they’re there to participate as well as watch. That they’re in a two-way conversation; that she can hold her mic out and have them scream the rest of the lyrics for her, full of the passion.

She needs a little break between songs, and the lights come up while she does. She chats up the crowd whilst catching her breath, and lets her eyes wander over to her parents. Her dad is deep in a conversation with Seokmin, half watching her and half in the midst of explaining something. Her mom is just watching, elbows on the table, a drink in front of her, but all of her attention on Diva. When she catches her eye, she smiles.

That’s enough to keep her going. She stands up straighter, a new energy flowing through her as she gestures to Tiana. “I hope you’re ready for more, everyone. The night isn’t over yet.” Another song starts up, and she tosses her hair over her shoulder, and the crowd scream. She dances on.

It feels like entering a different dimension when she comes off stage. A dimension where she wears women’s clothes and her mom smiles at her for it. It’s strange.

She makes her way through the crowd. It takes a few minutes, with people stopping to praise her performance as she passes by, a few guys asking her to come and dance. She turns everyone down politely, but smiles and winks at those who offer nice words, and those who come to watch regularly. She’s grateful for them; they’re the reason she can show her parents she’s doing this, and doing it well. That she’s happy and liked, and within the realm of the Dive, successful.

Eventually, though, she reaches the table again, and her mom stands up to meet her. She doesn’t say anything at first, but comes to embrace Diva in a hug. It takes her aback, almost stumbling in her heels. Her dad stands too, doesn’t say anything, but comes up to them and pats her mom’s back, nodding.

Diva hugs her back, holding on tight. “What did you think?” she asks when her mom pulls back to look at her, voice a little wobbly.

Her parents stand in front of her, looking at her in all her drag queen glory, and her mom says, “You’ve still got it, baby.”

She tries not to cry. Pulls them both in for a hug, and thanks them, too many times to count.

-

Things get easier after that. Maybe it’s the relief of being able to breathe out, knowing his parents have his back, finally. Having a newfound openness with his parents is a big part of it, certainly, because nothing else in his life changes much; he’s still looking for work wherever he can and coming up with nothing, still crushing hard on Soonyoung, still struggling to look Seungkwan in the eye without feeling the ugly demon of jealousy clawing at his insides. It’s easier to bear when he has time away from it all, maybe; he’s started going to his parent’s house on Sundays, spending the afternoons with them.

Still, he’s spending the majority of his time in the Dive, helping Soonyoung out wherever he can. One night, Rina brings her sisters to watch her perform, and they are, of course, wonderful and supportive. He watches them dancing together, and wonders what it would’ve been like, if he’d had family members who could’ve supported him when he was first finding himself. He’d had Wonho, but only for so long. He’s never longed for siblings before, because being an only child wasn’t lonely, as he’d always been close to his parents. Until, of course, he wasn’t.

She doesn’t realise she’s staring until Rina looks up and meets eyes with her. She turns away quickly, instead facing her drink sitting on the bar in front of her. Hopes she wasn’t being too obvious.

But then Rina is sitting herself on the barstool next to her, pulling down her dress primly. “What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?”

She scoffs. “I’ll have you know this is the finest gay club in Seoul.”

“You’re damn right it is,” Rina replies, soft.

It’s strange to see Rina hesitate, in anything she does, and it makes her tense a little. Has she noticed any of her behaviour lately? Has she been too obvious when she stares at Soonyoung? He’s not hers to stare at, after all.

“Diva,” she starts, carefully. “What’s been up with you?”

She shifts uncomfortably. “Hm? What do you mean?”

“You’ve been quieter lately—you don’t talk to me as much, and I miss you. Is it something I said? Is it about leaving school? Whatever it is, can I help you?”

Rina looks so eager and genuine that it hurts, hits her close to the heart. She’d never meant to make her feels like she’s done something wrong, never meant to show her discomfort with their relationship, but she hadn’t realised how much her feelings have clearly been affecting the other girl.

“Oh, I really didn’t know I was being like that! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

“So it is to do with me?” she asks anxiously. “What is it? Please tell me so I know not to do it again.” Rina clasps her hands together as if pleading, and she can’t stand it, shakes her head quickly.

“No, really, it’s not your fault! I just let my jealousy get ahead of me sometimes. I’ll try to be more aware of it, I swear.”

“Jealousy? You have everything that I have, and you’re leagues beyond me as a performer. What is it?”

Fuck. This conversation isn’t going the way she wants it to, and she fumbles with her words, trying to collect her thoughts whilst censoring the truth. “That’s not true, though. You have a lot of things that I want. You have a family who love and support you. You have Soonyoung, you have your own place, your own job. All I have is performing, and the shitty couch I sleep on. And even that isn’t mine.”

Rina’s face falls, and she could slap herself. All attempts to make her feel better about this are going the wrong way, and she clenches her hands in frustration. She opens her mouth to take it all back, but then—

“Soonyoung? I don’t _have_ him anymore than you do.”

Diva stops short, voice caught in her throat, blood rushing to her cheeks. She swallows and averts her gaze, looking back at her drink. “Oh, well. You know. You’re just close, these days.”

She knows the game is up before Rina even speaks. She’s one of the sharpest people she knows. “Oh. Oh, Diva, baby—why didn’t you say anything? If I’d known that you like him, I would’ve stopped sleeping with him months ago—”

Her heart beats unreasonably fast at that, at Rina saying it so easily and so loudly in this space, with Soonyoung _somewhere else in this room_. Her hand is on Rina’s mouth before she even registers moving. “Please, God, don’t say anything, Unnie. We live together, and I know he still sees me as a kid, and it’s just weird, okay? You don’t have to stop anything. You can do what you like.”

Rina pulls away from her, tossing her head. “Don’t be silly, I’ll break it off. Don’t worry about it. Bros before hoes, sisters before misters, all that jazz. As for the flat and job—they came to me after hard work and plenty of tears, and they’ll come to you too. Keep looking for work, and you’ll get there eventually. And, you have us, don’t you? Blood family means nothing if they don’t love you properly. You’ll always have our family to come back to, and we love you so much. I promise.”

Despite the fact that Rina hasn’t been there from the beginning, and despite the fact that she’s finally at ease with her blood family, the words are comforting. They almost ease the frantic beat of her heart, the knowledge that somebody knows about her feelings now, that Rina has unwound and seen right through her with one conversation. “Thanks, Unnie. You can’t go around calling Soonyoung your hoe, though.”

“Why not? It’s already in her name. Bros before Ho-shi’s, my dear Diva.”

It makes her laugh, even if it does come out a little wet, a little overwhelmed. Rina grins wide. “Now, that’s better. Do you want to come and dance with me?”

-

Soonyoung mopes for a little while, mourning the loss of his booty call, but snaps back to usual business quick enough. He’s professional like that, and personable enough that it’s hard to be awkward with him for any length of time. Seungkwan doesn’t care for awkwardness either, smoothly transitions right back into being Soonyoung’s friend at an arm’s length. Between the two of them and their elasticity, it’s like the last half a year of their relationship didn’t even happen.

Without any outlet to let off steam, though, and the busy winter period coming up, Soonyoung overworks himself, and eventually falls sick.

Chan starts noticing it when they’re at the club one night, and the place is sticky with body heat, at that point late into the night when everyone is sweaty and talkative and drunk dancing. Soonyoung, however, is shivering, steals Chan’s coat to wear, even inside, even when it gets him strange looks.

“Are you okay, Hyung?” he asks, holding a hand to his forehead. He’s unbelievably sweaty. “Don’t you think you should go home for the night?”

“I’m fine,” Soonyoung insists, waving him away. “It’s all fine. Can you check if we have anymore Cass Light in the back?”

Soonyoung is definitely not fine, as evidenced by the shaking he’s doing when they finally get back to the flat early in the morning. Since Chan has been spending almost as many of his nights at the Dive as Soonyoung, now, they’ve come to a routine of swapping beds. It’s technically Soonyoung’s night on the couch, but Chan pushes him through to the bedroom firmly, deaf to Soonyoung’s protests. “You are absolutely not sleeping there tonight. Don’t be crazy, you’re clearly sick.”

“M’not sick,” Soonyoung mumbles, even as he flops into the bed, pulling the covers over himself. “Come here.”

Chan crawls into the bed next to him. Sometimes, their compromise ends like this, especially in these cold months, neither wanting to let the other sleep on the very old sofa. He tries not to let it happen too often, though. Doesn’t want to fall into the trap of wanting it so bad; wanting it in the way Soonyoung doesn’t mean it, the illusion of domesticity instead of simple practicality. Tonight, though, Soonyoung is clearly not well, and he’d feel better being able to watch over him, rather than being removed to the other room.

He toys with the idea of getting a wet cloth for his burning forehead, but he knows Soonyoung wouldn’t appreciate it, and he can be stubborn as hell when he wants to. He’ll see how he is in the morning.

Or at least, that’s the plan. In practise, Soonyoung wakes himself in the early hours of the morning with a horrible coughing fit, and Chan is worried he might be sick all over the bed. He isn’t, thankfully, but he gladly takes the drink Chan hands him, still half asleep and dazed. Once he’s downed the drink, he burrows back under the covers, and stills, back to sleep again instantly.

Chan stands there, anxious. He’s really sick.

Soonyoung eventually comes to accept this as he wakes up a couple more times, coughing or whining, drinking what Chan hands him until he wakes up with a desperate need for the bathroom. When the cough won’t let him sleep any longer, he writhes in the bed, moaning and sweating.

“How am I going to open the Dive like this?” he groans, voice rough.

“You aren’t going to,” he says firmly.

“I have to,” Soonyoung insists. “It’s my club! I have to know she’s okay!”

“She can survive a night without you! The others know how to take care of her well enough. Don’t you trust them?”

“Minghao isn’t coming tonight,” Soonyoung says. “He’s working his other job.”

“Junhui and Seungkwannie can handle it just fine,” Chan says. “You know they can.”

“Oh, no,” Soonyoung moans, rolling over to grab her phone. “I need to talk to them. I need to know.”

Chan is tempted to grab the phone out of his hand. “It’s too early, they won’t be awake. Hyung, please try to rest.”

Soonyoung miserably watches the phone try to reach Seungkwan, the dial tone going on and on without a response. “I can’t rest if my baby isn’t safe. She’s never been without me before. You have to go in, they can’t do it between the two of them—”

“I’m staying here. You’re in no state to be on your own.”

“No! I’m fine!” Soonyoung insists, but his last word gets caught on a cough, sending him into another round of choking.

“Yeah, okay,” Chan says when he’s done. “Wonho is back in the city to see his family, you know. I’ll call him, okay? He’ll perform for the Dive for us, I’m sure. There you go, three queens to uphold your baby! That’s normal for a slow night, isn’t it?”

“For a slow night, yes! Not a Friday!”

Chan sighs, watches as Soonyoung attempts to dial Junhui, eyes trained on the screen. “Do you want some soup or something? Do you have any throat medicine?”

“No,” he grumbles, opening KakaoTalk and beginning to spam Seungkwan with texts.

Chan rolls his eyes and goes through to the kitchen to see what they have stocked in the way of medicine. The range isn’t inspiring. He might have to go to the store the next time Soonyoung falls asleep. He goes to put some soup on; Soonyoung had refused food when they’d come in last night, which isn’t ideal after long hours of working late into the night. He’ll try and feed him a few mouthfuls, at least.

“Junhui,” Soonyoung’s voice wails through the wall. “I need you to look after my baby tonight.”

He puts the soup over a low heat and walks back into the bedroom.

“No, I can’t,” Soonyoung says, his voice wavering, and then he launches into another coughing fit. He plucks the phone out of his hand, swapping it for a herbal tea remedy.

“Hi, Hyung,” he says. “How are you?”

“Better than Soonyoung, by the sound of it,” Junhui says.

“Well, you’re probably right about that. He’s not going to be able to come to the Dive tonight, and I’m going to stay here with him, so we were calling to make sure you and Seungkwan will be okay running the Dive on your own.”

Soonyoung has slurped half the drink down, and is now making grabbing motions at the phone, so he takes it away from his ear and puts it on speaker.

“Of course, it’s no problem,” Junhui says. “Tell him not to worry, we’ll be fine.”

“You hear that?” he says, holding the phone out of Soonyoung’s reach. “He said not to worry. Cause that won’t help you get better.”

“But… it’s a Friday…”

“We managed with the two or three of us a night before Chan and Kwan came along, didn’t we?” Junhui says.

“Right!” he agrees. “And I’m going to ask Wonho to join you guys, so you won’t be on your own.”

“Great!” Junhui enthuses, and Soonyoung scowls at the betrayal of it all.

“It’s going to be busy, though,” he mumbles.

“That’s right,” he says. “And it’ll all go fine, as usual. Oh, hey, Hyung?”

“Yeah?” Junhui says down the phone.

“Could you pick up some medicine and bring it around, maybe? We don’t have much here, and I’m afraid Soonyoung might barricade me out if I leave the flat.”

“Sure. I’ll be by later.”

“Great, thanks. See you then.”

“Bye.”

He ends the call and drops the phone back onto the bed. Soonyoung is lying back down on the bed again, dejected.

“You don’t need to act like you’ve been rejected by your crush, Hyung. The Dive will always need you, but a night off won’t kill either of you.”

“I still need to get through to Seungkwan,” he mutters. “If he can’t make it tonight, we might have to close.”

“You’re not going to have to close. And if you do, it won’t be the end of the world. You’ve called him enough that I’m sure he’ll call back when he wakes up. Why don’t you try and rest?”

Soonyoung ignores him, resolutely picking up the phone and pressing Seungkwan’s contact, watching the phone ring.

“Okay,” he says, standing. “In that case, I hope you’re ready for some soup.”

Soonyoung whines again. “Don’t want soup.”

“Too bad, you have to eat.”

“Don’t wanna.”

He’s already out of the bedroom and back in the kitchen, stirring the soup. “What was that? You want some bread with it?”

“If you force feed me bread, I’m going to throw up,” Soonyoung shouts through the flat.

He pours some of it into a bowl and carries it carefully back through to the bedroom. “Fine, no bread. But you have to try and have a few spoons of this.” He sits on the edge of the bed, holding the bowl out.

Soonyoung sits there with his arms crossed, glaring at the bowl.

“Please?” he tries. “Just for me?”

Soonyoung glances up at him. “That’s not fair. You’re not allowed to use that face.”

He pouts. “This one?”

“Yes!”

He pouts harder. “So you won’t even have a little bit?”

Soonyoung groans, sagging against the headboard.

He takes that as a defeat. “You ready?” he gathers a spoonful of soup and carefully moves it towards him. “Open wide!”

Soonyoung lets himself be fed one spoon of soup before he’s batting his hand away. “Give me that, I can feed myself.”

“Then you’d better do that,” he says, handing him the bowl but not moving away.

Soonyoung scowls at the soup but takes another hesitant spoonful. Chan stays sat on the edge of the bed, patting his leg, half to be a comfort, half holding him in place lest he try to bolt.

“It’s only so you can get better, you know. It’s not going to hurt you.”

Soonyoung doesn’t say anything, just takes another slow slurp of soup, glancing up at him every now and then like a child trying to get away with trouble.

Chan sits there, watching him steadily. He can’t believe he’s head over heels for this man.

Junhui comes by a little while later with a bag of medication, soft drinks, and some of Soonyoung’s favourite comfort foods. Soonyoung, by some miracle, has fallen asleep again, finally still and restful against sweaty sheets. He’ll have to change those the next chance he gets.

“How has he been?” Junhui asks, voice low as he unloads the bag.

“Just as you’d expect,” he says. “A disaster.”

Junhui laughs. “Did you get him to eat?”

“A little. Some soup. Not enough, really.”

“He’ll eat when he’s ready. He wouldn’t reject food unless he really felt bad.”

He chews at his lip. “Do you think he’ll be okay? You don’t think it could be something serious?”

“Don’t worry too much. He’ll be back on his feet tomorrow, I expect, though it would be good if he could stay off work a day or two more.”

“If he decides he’s going in to work, I don’t think we’re going to be able to stop him.”

He quirks his lips in response. “You’re probably right. But at least we’ll be there with him.”

“What would he do without us around? I really think he’d get himself killed, you know.”

“He’s only made it this long because I made him get insurance and you made him eat soup. Between us, we’ve forced him into being a functional human being.”

He laughs. “You’re probably right.”

Junhui goes over to the bedroom to peek in on Soonyoung. “He’s still sleeping,” he says, carefully quiet. “I have to go to work, but Minghao is free for another hour or two if you want him to come over and help you out?”

“It’s okay, I can handle him on my own.”

Junhui shuts the bedroom door again. “I know. But the offer is there.”

“Thanks, Hyung. Have a good time with your class.”

Junhui tilts his head as he makes his way to the front door. “I’ll do my best. It’s not the same without my star pupil there.”

Chan salutes to him. “I have full faith in you, Teacher.”

“And you, Channie,” he calls back, shutting the front door behind him. The apartment is left quiet and empty, so he goes to inspect the medicine Junhui had brought. Medicine for the throat, some mixture for aches, tables for pains and indigestion, oriental medicine, a thermometer; he’s brought everything they could possibly need.

He’s just opening the painkillers when Soonyoung’s voice sounds through the walls. Only when he walks through to the bedroom, Soonyoung is still asleep, prone and pink cheeked on the bed. He hovers for a moment, wondering if he’d been hearing things; next door, maybe? But as he’s about to leave, the noise comes again, and it’s definitely coming from Soonyoung. He’s whining, deep in his throat, pained and stifled and unlike the petty complaining he’d been doing earlier.

“Hyung?” he says, tentatively stepping over to the bed.

He turns his head fitfully. There’s sweat all down his neck. “Hey, Hyung. Wake up.”

Soonyoung starts panting and grimacing in his sleep, body tensing and then untensing. Chan puts his hands on his arm to shake him awake. “Hey! Wake up!”

He wakes up with a start, tense and looking around wildly.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Chan says, soothing, low. “I think it was a bad dream. You feel okay?”

Soonyoung blinks, dazed, and surveys the room once. Looking around for something, but he doesn’t find it; he looks back to Chan, and seemingly deems himself safe, as his eyelids droop again, and he goes boneless against the mattress. His breathing evens out again quickly, falling back to sleep in seconds.

Chan stays sat by him for a while, waiting for any more signs of discomfort. He strokes the hair away from Soonyoung’s forehead, matted and damp. Watches him sleep, breathing in and out. He’s not sure how long he’s there, watching over him, but it’s calming, to have him in his sight, safe and quiet.

It hurts, though. Even here, with Soonyoung dead asleep, his heart aches, a steady pressure on his chest.

“Are you awake?” he says, and Soonyoung stays still, breathing in, breathing out.

“Will you wake up if I tell you something horribly embarrassing and terrible?”

He stays stroking Soonyoung’s hair rhythmically for a few more minutes, and it’s calming. Perhaps it brings his guard down. Makes the words slip out.

“You’ll never guess what. It’s really stupid actually.” He hesitates once, twice. Carries on in a low voice. “I have the biggest crush on you, Hyung. Have for too long now.” He swallows, watches Soonyoung sleep. “It’s not going away. I don’t know what to do about it at this point. It really sucks, actually, because of all the people I could have feelings for…”

He trails off, slows in his movements. “You’re the only one I can’t tell. There’s no way that would go well for me. I’m not stupid; I know it’s not the same for you.”

He sighs. “It’s okay. Well, it’s not. But I get it. I’ll do my best to move out so that we can have some space. I think that will help me get over it.” He nods to himself. “I really hope I can get a job soon. It’ll make things easier for both of us.”

“Thank you for all you’ve done for me. I’ll do my best to make it up to you.” He leans down to kiss his forehead, light, careful. “God, you’re hot. I need to get you a wet cloth, or something.” He stands, and goes to leave the bedroom, but stops at the doorway, looking back. Soonyoung hasn’t moved.

“I love you. Please get better soon.”

Soonyoung is not much better the next day. He’s still coughing like crazy, and running pretty warm, but he’s started eating food and walking in straight lines, so he deems himself well enough to go back into work at the Dive that night. As much as Chan nags him, and Junhui sighs at him, and Minghao makes side comments, none of them can convince him otherwise. He’s comforted by the fact that Saturday is their last day of the week, and the Dive will be shut for two days after this. At least he can make him rest, then. For tonight, he’ll have to keep a close eye on him.

Their whole family is in, so it shouldn’t be too hard to help him take it easy. July keeps an eye on the bar whilst Tiana is on sound, she and Rina swapping out to each perform. Soonyoung mostly sits at the bar, half at their insistence, half because everything is running fine, and it’s the most he can do to watch them all and sweat about not being on his feet.

Her stage goes well, and basks in the noise of the crowd, excited and urgent. Sends them all a sultry look as the lights go down, and struts off stage in the dark, energised and self-satisfied.

It only takes a minute to strip the head mic off and walk out, handing it over to Tiana. “You need me to take over for a bit?”

“It’s okay. July isn’t performing until later, and it’s easy to manage once the performances are over.”

“Right,” she replies. “I’ll go and make sure Soonyoung hasn’t passed out, or something.”

Tiana’s mouth quirks. “Yeah, you’d better do that. It was a heated performance tonight, wasn’t it?”

She tries to hide how pleased she is that somebody noticed. “You liked it?”

“Very good,” Tiana smiles, sliding her headphones off. “You’re evolving.”

“You’re damn right,” she says, winking. “Thought it was about time I amped up the act a little.”

“You pull it off well,” Tiana says, and she tries not to beam at the praise.

She thanks her before heading back to the bar to find Soonyoung, passing Rina on her way. She’s following after a man in a cap, headed out of the club.

“Where’s Rina going?” she asks when she reaches Soonyoung, sat in the same place she’d left him. She’s amazed he’s managed to sit still for this long.

“Some guy asked her out to dinner.”

“Ooh,” she says, eyebrows raising. “And she’s going right now?”

“He’s from the Ossu Seiromushi, across the road.”

“The expensive place? So he has money?”

“I guess so.”

Diva nods in approval. “Good for her. Wonder if she’ll be back.”

“She said she would be, but we’ll see,” Soonyoung grins. “I wouldn’t blame her if she doesn’t appear.”

“And how about you?” She hops up onto the barstool next to Soonyoung, and waves down July to give them some water. “You feeling okay?”

“Never better,” Soonyoung says, puffing his chest out. “I’m not the mess I was yesterday, you know. I’ll be completely better by tomorrow, mark my words.”

She hums, non-committal. “I’m sure.”

“Seriously,” he huffs. “I’m adaptable. Don’t worry so much.”

“If I didn’t worry, who would? Not you, that’s for sure.”

He waves her away. “I’m fine.”

She sips at her drink. He can think that if he wants; he’s stubborn as all hell. It’s not going to stop her from keeping him in the apartment for the next two days until he’s actually well.

“Hey,” Soonyoung starts, more subdued. “I didn’t do anything weird yesterday, right?”

“Weird? You mean other than throwing a tantrum over having soup?”

He pouts at her. “You know what I mean. Like… actually weird.”

She has no clue what he means. He’s always weird. “No, I don’t think so. Do you remember something weird?”

He frowns. “No. Well. I had some weird dreams. I think I was fighting a tiger. But then I was the tiger…wasn’t sure if I started fighting you in real life too.”

She bursts into giggles, remembering the point later in the day when Soonyoung had started growling in his sleep. “No, you’re fine. Just normal stuff, for you.”

Soonyoung doesn’t laugh with her, but watches her face. “Okay. Good.”

Rina does come back, an hour or two later, but she’s a mess, coming out of nowhere and gripping Diva’s arm tight. “Oh my God. Diva, you will never guess what. Fuck, where’s Soonyoung?”

“Where you left him,” she says, trying to ease her vice grip off her arm. “What’s happened?”

“Come, come,” she urges, pulling Diva away from where she’d been restocking the bar fridge.

“Oh, hello,” Soonyoung says when Rina rounds on him. “How was it?”

“Do you know who that was?” she hisses, looking around them for eavesdroppers. “The guy, did you recognise him?”

“No? Should I?”

“It was Kim fucking Seokjin,” she says, clutching Diva harder for support. “Oh my God, he just gave me dinner from his own restaurant. I’m not sure if that’s cheap or rich as hell.”

Soonyoung gapes. “Wait, he was here? In my club?”

“Yeah!”

“You’re telling me an idol just took you out for a meal? While you’re in full drag?” Diva says, eyes bright at the fresh gossip.

“Yeah, I’m serious! I feel crazy, he gave me his private social media and everything!”

“Oh my God,” she grins, clutching Rina right back. “You’re totally getting hit on by Kim Seokjin!”

“What a fucking turn for tonight,” Rina says, clutching at the bar, slightly out of breath. “Hey, you can’t tell anyone, yeah? If this gets out, we’re both dead.”

“Of course,” she promises, instantly. “As long as you promise to message him. You can’t let this end here, you know.”

“What do you take me for? I’m going to bide my time, though. Don’t want to be too much.”

“Kim Seokjin,” Soonyoung says in awe. “Man, I bet you two are a handful to keep up with.”

Rina smiles, pleased. “It was pretty fun. I’d love to see him again, if I can.”

“He’d be a fool to let you go,” Diva grins. “Hey, we should have drinks to celebrate you picking up a guy, right?”

“Only if they’re on you,” Rina says, winking and turning to the bar.

Diva slaps her butt playfully. “Cheeky.”

-

He meets with his parents a few days before Christmas Day this year, due to a schedule conflict. He has plans to spend another Christmas with his friends, as Jeonghan and Jihoon both prefer to stay in Seoul again, and Seungkwan (along with his sister) are reluctant to pay for flights back to Jeju so close to the Lunar New Year. His parents, as it turns out, have also arranged to spend Christmas elsewhere.

“The Church has volunteered to host a Christmas for the homeless this year,” his dad explains through a mouthful of Turkey.

“Really?” he says.

“It’s a wonderful idea, I think,” his mom enthuses. “We’ll be doing the usual Christmas day service, followed by the meal, with drinks and celebrations in the evening. A party in the kids room too, I think, for the young people.”

“Oh, that sounds really cool,” he says.

“You can come, if you like,” his dad says, and Chan slows in his chewing.

“I’m sorry, I already have plans for Christmas.”

“You don’t have to come for all of it,” his mom says, hopeful. “Even just the party, maybe? I’m sure the other kids would love to see you! Kwangsoo was asking after you just last Sunday!”

“I’m sure he was. I don’t think I can come, though. I’m sorry.”

His mom deflates. “Are you ever planning on coming back?”

He puts down his cutlery. “Right now, I have no desire to come back. Being there did me more bad than good.”

The way Mom looks so disappointed encourages him to elaborate. “I haven’t given up on God, Mom. I want to believe in Him. But I don’t want to be involved in the church. I don’t think it does people like me much good at all.”

“I know, baby. But I still want to see you saved.”

He gives her a sad smile. “Maybe one day. I’m just doing my best to figure things out right now.”

“Of course,” she says. “How is everything else going? The job hunt?”

“Okay. I have another set of interviews in January. You know what they say, new year, new me, and all that. Maybe I’ll finally land one of them.”

“You should get up and dance for them,” his father suggests. “Then they wouldn’t be able to say no.”

“I think getting up and dancing in the middle of an interview is a sure-fire way to not get hired.”

“Not if it’s a dance teacher position!” his mom points out. “Can’t you ask Junhui if there’s any spare work with him?”

“There won’t be anything at his work. All the teachers there have gone through specialist classes; I’ve only ever done dancing as an extra-curricular. I don’t qualify.”

“You know you could still go and do dance in school. We would support you.”

He shakes his head. “I need to get myself together first. Maybe in a few years, when I can save for myself.”

It’s tempting, whenever she says that. To be able to move out of Soonyoung’s place and into University accommodation, to be able to learn what he loves—it’s the dream. But when it comes down to it, the idea of being reliant on his parents again scares him. If they changed their mind in the middle of his studies, if the church convinced them he needs to be prayed for or sent to a camp or exorcised to be worth his parent’s time and money, what would he do then? He thought he’d been safe with them before, and then the rug had been pulled from under his feet. He won’t make the same mistake twice. He’ll keep their affection at arm’s length. Practise caution, support himself, because he’s the only one he can rely on, in the end.

Well, himself and his family at the Dive. He’s never had a reason to doubt them.

-

The first time he properly meets Seokjin, he and Seungkwan have been dating for two months, and Seungkwan has—somehow—convinced him to come to the Dive in full drag. Seokjin seems nervous at first, but then he goes ahead and joins Seungkwan on stage for a performance of his own song, so he can’t be feeling that anxious.

She comes over after her own show to relay her compliments. “Wonderful show, out there. You two were great!”

“Thank you,” Rina sing-songs. “Diva this is Jasmine. Jas, this is Diva, my wonderful dongsaeng.”

“Hello,” she greets, bowing slightly to Jasmine, who does the same back.

“Your performance was so good!” Jasmine compliments, gesturing to the stage she’d just left. “Woah, you’re such a talented dancer.”

“Thanks!” Compliments are always nice, but there’s an extra kick to them when they come from professionals. “Is this your first time in drag? You look great!”

Truth is, she looks awkward and bashful, but she remembers her first night in drag, remembers how empowering any compliment was. She can imagine much the same is true of an idol, out here risking getting caught out at any moment, especially as she was probably coerced into it by Rina in the first place.

“Doesn’t she?” Rina croons, reaching across to tuck some of the blonde hair behind her ear. “You’re so pretty!”

Jasmine blushes hard and shrinks into herself a little. “Please, I can’t take all this attention,” she laughs, the tips of her ears turning red.

Seokmin leans over to whisper in her ear. “Jasmine is Seokjin!” he says, like that much hadn’t been obvious to anyone who’s listened to Seungkwan ramble on and on about his new boyfriend.

“Hey, did you seriously not know that?” she asks Seokmin, who looks wide-eyed at the accusation.

“The makeup hides a lot! And it’s not like you guys get idols wandering in here all the time!”

Rina gestures for him to lower his voice through a laugh. “Everyone else caught on when I introduced her, Seok. You’re the only one having trouble with it.”

“Seriously, haven’t you heard how often Rina talks about her new boyfriend?” Diva says, with a sly grin. “I can’t get her to shut up about—”

Rina grabs Diva by the arm, carrying her up and out of her seat, making her giggle. “Alright, I think we need a word in the back, right now…”

“Hey, I wanna hear about how you’re obsessed with me!” Jasmine protests, pulling Rina back down into her seat. She must have a magic touch, or maybe Rina really is in love, because she goes down without a fight, eyeing up Diva, who throws back a smug smile.

“She’s your biggest fan,” she informs her happily. “Every time you go on a date she sends me or Hoshi a short essay about it. It’s adorable! We’ve never seen her this soppy.”

Rina picks up a flimsy drink coaster from the table and throws it at her. “Who are you calling soppy? And why is Hoshi sharing my messages with you?”

“We’re a package deal, you should know this by now. I’m with her 24/7.”

As if summoned, Hoshi appears carrying a tray of drinks. “Alright, ladies, what’s the gossip today!” As soon as the tray has safely landed on the table, Rina hits her on the arm, and Hoshi recoils, sufficiently scolded.

“What was that for?” she asks, scandalised, sliding into the opposite side of the booth safely out of slapping reach.

“Why are you going around talking about my messages?”

“If you’re sending them both similar messages, what does it matter?” Jasmine asks, laughing.

“It’s the principle of it!” she says, affronted.

“You wax lyrical about Seokjin to everyone,” Jihoon points out, both hands wrapped happily around his beer. “Why are you pretending like this is a big secret?”

“Hey!” Rina complains. “I don’t need this from you too!”

“Attacked from all sides,” Jasmine narrates, dramatic. “What will she do now?”

“I can’t believe you’d all expose me like this,” Rina pouts, clinging closer to Jasmine. “I’m unfriending all of you. Jasmine is the only one I can trust.”

“Okay,” Diva smiles sweetly. “Let’s see how long you last without someone to screen your date outfits for you.”

“I really don’t know you anymore,” Rina says, disgust on her face. “Who are you? Someone irrelevant?”

“I’m your wonderful dongsaeng,” she says, waving sweetly. “You know you can’t forget me.”

-

Finally, in the middle of the year, something clicks, and he lands himself a receptionist job at a dentist’s practise. The hours suit him; it’s a standard working day, but it leaves him able to perform at the Dive on Saturdays, and some other days too, when he’s not too tired. It’s exhausting for the first few weeks, with too many new things to learn, too few breaks without enough staff to support him. But then he gets into the swing of things, and starts to get to know his co-workers a little—a group of lovely, if chatty, older women—and things feel less overwhelming. It becomes the norm. Receptionist by day, drag queen by night, and his bank account starts to show it.

“Hyung?” he asks one day, preparing himself for the inevitable disagreement that always follows this question. “Can I start paying you for my stay here?”

“No, no,” Soonyoung dismisses, bent over sheets of tax returns. “I’ve told you, you don’t need to.”

“Roommates don’t live together for free. That’s how kids live with their parents,” he says, watching his back at his desk. “I want to pay for my stay here.”

Soonyoung turns to face him. “Chan, you sleep on the sofa. You never have the heat on if I don’t have it on, and you never ask to order takeout, not even when we don’t have any food in. You buy your own clothes with the money you earn; I don’t know what you’d even pay me, because you barely cost anything to live with.”

“But I’m still a person with needs. I still eat your food and use your water and live in your house. Don’t act like I’m not living off you.”

“I’d rather you save what you’re earning now, so that when we move out you can pay for your own rent fair and square. You don’t need to worry about costs right now, okay?”

“Move out?” he echoes.

“Yeah. I presume you’re not going to sleep on the sofa forever. We can get a two-bedroom place as soon as you’re financially stable enough.”

He stares at him. “Together?”

Soonyoung nods, oblivious to the way he’s turning Chan’s world on its head. “Yes? It’s been way better, living with you! It was boring to live on my own. Why, did you have other plans?” He says it like it’s a joke, like he couldn’t imagine an alternative.

“I was going to get my own place,” he says.

Soonyoung’s face falls. “Huh?”

“I figured you’d want me out. Haven’t I been here too long?”

He gapes for a second, then stands from his desk to come and sit by Chan on the couch. “Of course not. Did you think I only wanted you here as long as you had to be?”

“I only started living here because I had nowhere else to go.”

“Yeah, and then you started referring to my place as home, so I figured you were happy here.” There’s a beat of silence as Chan doesn’t react fast enough, and the line between Soonyoung’s eyebrows deepens. “But if you’re not, then I understand why you want to leave—”

“No, no, no,” he says quickly. “That’s not why I want to move out! I do think of this place as home, you’re right. I just thought we’d both want space, because you’ve been living with me since I was a teenager, and I’m in my twenties now—this is what I’m supposed to be doing, isn’t it? Making my own way?”

Soonyoung just looks at him as if he’s missing the obvious. “You’ve been doing that since you left home, Chan. You don’t need to move away from me to prove anything. I know you’re capable of it; it doesn’t mean you should do it.”

He isn’t sure what to make of that. Soonyoung doesn’t want him to move out; in fact, he wants to get a new place with him. Together. Permanently. “I’ll think on it,” he says, though what he means is, _you’ve just thrown me for a loop and now I don’t know what to do with myself, can you give me a few months to get myself together before we talk about this again?_

“Okay,” Soonyoung says, looking at him for a few seconds, vulnerable. “Sure.”

He stands to go back over to his desk. Chan watches him go, feeling like he should say something; reassure him he does want to live with him, that he doesn’t feel unhappy where he is. But he can’t; not when he’s not sure that’s the truth. Doesn’t he have a good enough reason to move out? He can’t stay like this forever, waiting and pining and wanting more than he can have. He needs to move on from Soonyoung, get on with his life. His options are to confess, or move out.

He can never confess. He wants to die thinking about it. But now that Soonyoung’s said that, told him _it’s been way better, living with you, _he doesn’t want to leave him on his own, either. Truthfully, he’d do anything to see Soonyoung happy, even if it means his suffering is prolonged and his feelings shoved right back in his face next time Soonyoung finds a boy to bring home. There hasn’t been anyone since Seungkwan, but he knows it won’t be long. He’ll endure it, he supposes. Because all it takes is for Soonyoung to smile at him and say _did you have other plans? _and here he is, rethinking everything.

-

Autumn rolls in, all orange leaves and windy weather, and with it comes the wilting energy of those around him. His friends in University are facing up to their final year, and his drag family are weary, tired of the endless work routine. They’re all balancing two jobs now, other than Soonyoung, who spends his whole life at the Dive; he never gives himself vacation weeks, and the club is only ever closed for national holidays. Chan spends more time than ever worrying about moving out, about whether it’s the right thing to do, or if maybe confessing would be kinder, would explain why he needs some space from Soonyoung. Seungkwan is arguably the most drained; Seokjin has begun to tour with his group, which means lots of distance and little contact between the two of them. It leaves Seungkwan lovesick and low every time Chan sees him, around the Dive or in their free time.

“Hey,” he demands of Soonyoung one day. “We’re going shopping. Make your Monday evening free.”

“Okay,” Soonyoung agrees. “Why are we going shopping?”

“Seungkwan needs the morale boost,” he explains, pulling up the group chat.

So they do; Chan, by some miracle, wrangles everyone into the same place at the same time, and they take to the streets, dipping into interesting shops and walking through the marketplace together. It’s a relaxing outing, though no one has anything they particularly need to buy; it leaves them window shopping for the most part, talking and being together. It’s good enough for him. That’s all he wants, in the end.

Then the three Hyungs get caught up in a craft supplies shop, and he knows he’ll be bored out of his mind if he waits for them to be done, so he and Seungkwan part ways with them to get boba tea. It’s okay; he’s been meaning to check up on Seungkwan whilst they’re here.

They get their tea and sit down, watching the shoppers go by. He might as well jump straight into it. “Are you feeling better these days, Hyung? I know your boyfriend has been abroad for a while.”

“Yeah, a month now,” Seungkwan says, sighing and fiddling with his cup. “I’m getting used to it, but it’s not the most fun I’ve ever had. I don’t know how I wasn’t so bored and sad before I knew him.”

That sounds familiar. He’s felt different ever since he started looking at Soonyoung and seeing him as more than his Hyung. “It’s because you weren’t in love before you knew him.”

Seungkwan quirks an eyebrow at him. “I suppose you’d know a thing about that, right?”

He wrinkles his nose at the accusation. “I suppose so.”

“Are you never going to tell him?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t want to do anything that would hurt our relationship, but I don’t think this feeling is going away, is it?” It’s the first time he’s said it out loud—that his feelings for Soonyoung are persistent and unending, that he maybe, finally, needs to deal with them. It’s strange, but not as scary as he’d expected, putting that thought out into the real world.

Seungkwan smiles at him, a little sadly. “I don’t think so, Channie.”

“At this point, it feels like a guilty secret. Maybe I will tell him. I’m going to wait until I have enough money to move out, though, in case he doesn’t want me living with him anymore.”

“Does your job pay you well enough for that?”

“Between the drag work and a roommate, I think I’d be able to afford it.”

“I don’t think it has to come to that, you know. Soonyoung would sooner leave the Dive than let you move out of his sight without a proper plan.”

He scoffs at that. “You know that isn’t true. He loves that club more than anything.”

“Not more than you. I really don’t think he’d be upset if he found out about how you feel.”

Seungkwan seems so sure about that, that Soonyoung would prioritise Chan over the Pink Dive, the love of his life, that it takes him aback. Hasn’t he seen the way he cares for that place?

He’s suddenly uncomfortable, and he shrugs him away. “I don’t know. Can we talk about something more fun?”

“What’s fun when you have an estranged love life?” Seungkwan laments, flopping down onto the table exaggeratedly.

He tuts at him. Seungkwan doesn’t know what he has. “At least you have a love life. It’s not like he’s gone to war. I saw you messaging him half an hour ago!”

“Yeah, and he was online for a whole five minutes. I can’t live like this, Channie! I need constant attention and affection!”

“That’s what we came here for! So we can give you all the attention you want, you big baby!”

“And yet, here I am, being called names by my dongsaeng. I live a cold, loveless life.”

“Stop,” he says, laughing and standing up. “Come on, let’s go back to the others. They can give you the attention you crave so dearly.”

“Lee Chan, that’s the best thing you’ve said today,” Seungkwan says, following him back to the craft store.

-

New Year’s comes around fast. He wonders if it’s the new routine in his life, the new workplace and the weekends with his parents and the consistency of his relationships, finally fallen into place, that makes time move faster than ever. Here he is, at the end of another year, and in so many ways, he’s come a long way.

In others, she’s in the same place as ever. She watches Hoshi go by to talk to the bouncer about their numbers; New Year’s Eve is always busy, but they’re positively teeming this year, and the club is close to bursting with people. It’s good though, for business as well as her ego; it puts cash in the tips jar and screams to her ears, during her whole set. They have a special plan for tonight; for the first time ever, all five of them will share the stage, put on a fun performance when everyone is suitably drunk and well into the New Year. As it is, each of them perform separately in the run up to midnight, and put on stunning shows.

They usually have a policy of avoiding alcohol when working, for the sake of remaining professional. It is, however, New Year’s Eve, and all their friends are there, and everyone’s having fun, so it doesn’t take much for them to give in when Seokmin buys a round of drinks.

And when Jihoon buys one. And Joshua, and Jeonghan, and then, because it’s courtesy, the rest of them have to buy one too—Rina and Tiana and July and Hoshi. And Diva, because she’s an adult now, with her own money and her own ID and her own obligation to buy her friends drinks.

They’d hired an extra hand or two to help out on their busiest night of the year, which leaves Hoshi freer than she usually is, and being at ease that her club is being well looked after, she turns to the next thing she loves most in the world; dancing.

“Diva!” she calls, gleeful. “Come and dance! Let’s dance!”

She giggles and lets Hoshi pull her out onto the very crowded, very sweaty dance floor. Rina, inebriated and loose-lipped, yells out “Go get her!” Diva isn’t sure which of them that’s meant for, but sends her a glare anyway, and pushes Hoshi out of earshot of any further catcalls, into any gap on the dance floor they can find.

Hoshi doesn’t mind, only pulls her close to avoid bumping into people. Really close; her hands are on her hips, brushing against the bare skin of her backless dress, her breath is on her neck, hot even in the crush of bodies. Because it’s late, and dark, and she’s powered by liquid courage, she reciprocates, putting her hands behind Hoshi’s neck, one hand in her long, curly hair, the other feeling the damp skin of her neck. They dance and touch and the night moves on, and she can’t stop looking at her lips, pink and pouty and right there. She tries to stop, look at her eyes or over her shoulder instead, but her attention span is short with the drink. Her mind can’t help but fixate on Hoshi’s hands on her, the way her thighs peek out of her shorts, the way her eyeshadow makes her gaze heavy and dark.

The music fades out, replaced with the sound of a countdown, and it startles her. _Ten. Nine._ The midnight countdown is here? Already? She regrets drinking so much; this means they’re due to do their group performance soon, and she’s not nearly sober enough for it. _Eight. Seven._

Hoshi seems to similarly surprised, blinking at the people delightedly shouting numbers around them. _Six. Five._

And here they are, she thinks. Hidden away in a mass of people. She looks at Hoshi’s lips again.

_Four. _Thinks about how she’d kissed Wonnie on her birthday, how easy it would be to pass it off as celebratory kissing.

_Three. _Doesn’t think about how much of a bad idea this is.

_Two. _Puts her hand to Hoshi’s cheek, to pull her attention back to her. Hoshi looks down at her, flushed and bright-eyed.

She looks beautiful.

_One. _Leans in without thinking, and their lips meet, and it tastes hot, feels soft, but so, so real.

Suddenly, she’s not so drunk anymore, but she’s holding Hoshi’s head in her hands and has her mouth on hers, and she’s kissing back. She doesn’t want to stop because she’s had dreams about this and they don’t even come close to this drunken kiss in a club, a New Year’s countdown, a mistaken press of lips.

She shouldn’t have done this. She’s still kissing her. She needs to stop, but it’s hard to let her go when she’s right here, willing under her hands.

People around them cheer, and the music comes back up. It’s the force of someone jostling them that brings her out of the kiss, pulling away only to pull Hoshi closer, out of the way of the man passing by. Hoshi, though, takes this as a pull for more, and leans in again, kissing her properly, and, God, suddenly it’s all too much.

She kisses back for a second but then pulls away, breathing heavily. Hoshi’s lipstick looks a little smudged, and her brain short circuits trying to comprehend that she’d been the one to do that, to mess her up and make her blush.

“Diva?” Hoshi says, but she sees it more than hears it, with the thump of the music so loud under their feet and through their bodies.

“Sorry,” she says, wide-eyed. “Fuck. Sorry.”

Hoshi says something else, but she can’t hear it for the life of her, and she doesn’t think she’s ready to answer it, anyway.

Seokmin appears out of nowhere, latching his arms around Hoshi’s shoulders from the back. “Happy New Year!” he bellows, loud enough to be heard over the music, loud enough that Hoshi flinches away from it, her ear right by his mouth. As she’s turning around to respond, Diva slips away, small frame pushing through the crowd to get away, go anywhere, far away from here. She meets body after body at first, and she can’t breathe properly in here, stifled by the heat and the intensity of the people, breath getting short until she finally makes it out of the crowd and takes in a gulp of air. Recognises where she is when she sees the end of the bar opposite the stage. The toilets are just through the corridor here, and she heads for them, relieved to find them empty so soon after the midnight countdown.

She locks herself in a stall and sits down on a toilet lid, trying to catch her breath. It’s hard for a minute, with her heart racing a mile a minute, blood rushing loud in her ears, attempting to blink away panicked tears for the sake of her makeup. She doesn’t want to come out looking like a mess, looking like she cried because she kissed Hoshi.

Oh, God. She kissed Hoshi. She’s never done anything stupider in her life. She tips her head back against the wall, body tense, trying to suppress the urge to scream. So much for confessing; if she says anything now, it’ll be clear how desperate she’s been all this time. She needs to go out there and act like it’s fine, just a meaningless New Year’s kiss between friends.

She thinks, somewhat hysterically, that she might be at her limit.

The bathroom door bangs open, and Hoshi’s voice calls through the empty room. “Diva?”

She sits still, and doesn’t respond, hoping she’ll leave. She can’t have this talk here.

“Are you in here?” she calls again.

When she doesn’t respond, there’s the click of Hoshi’s high heels leaving the room, the bathroom door closing behind her. She rests her face in her hands and leans over her knees, trying to work up the courage to leave the stall.

It takes her a while. She knows she needs to get out there before Hoshi sends out a search party, but it’s hard to force herself to move. Her mouth tastes like dread when she finally stands, wobbly on her heels, and goes to wash her hands, dragging it out as long as she can. She kissed Hoshi. She _kissed_ her.

The noise of the club, that had seemed so distant from the toilet, is overwhelmingly loud when she steps back into the main room, and she almost backs right out of it again. She’s not ready for this. Then she spots Jihoon not far away, sitting on his own, looking at his phone. He’s always been the least fond of a busy night, of dancing close with people. She’s not surprised to see him sat on his own, away from the crowd.

He looks up as she approaches him. “Do you want to get some air?” she shouts into his ear.

He nods, and she’s relieved for it. They make their way around the crowd towards the entrance of the club, stepping out into the night outside.

It’s below freezing in Seoul right now, but the frosty air is refreshing, relieving her of the sticky warmth of the club quickly.

“It’s crazy in there,” Jihoon remarks, leaning against the wall. The bouncer is having a smoke break by the corner of the building as it’s too late for people for people to still be coming in, only the few stragglers moving from club to club.

“You’re not kidding,” she replies, feeling the crisp air fill her lungs, and it feels like breathing, properly, for the first time in a while. She can still feel Hoshi’s lips against hers. “I think it’s the busiest I’ve ever seen it.”

“I might head back, soon, if I can convince Seokmin to leave,” he says. “It’s a bit much for me.”

“That’s fine,” she reassures him. Tries for a smile. “You stayed until the countdown at least! I’m not sure if we’ll go through with the final performance now, anyway. The last I saw, all of us were pretty drunk.”

“You’re one Queen down, too. Rina left just before you found me.”

“She did?”

Jihoon opens his mouth, but Hoshi’s voice beats him to it. “There you are!”

She spins to see Hoshi coming out of the entrance, bolding coming out into the freezing night in her tiger-striped crop top and shorts. “Unnie…”

“Where did you go?” she demands, coming down the steps to stand with them, barely acknowledging Jihoon. “I thought you’d left!”

“I just… needed some air…”

“I checked for you out here already,” she says, frowning. “Listen, we need to talk.”

“Do we?”

“I need you to tell me what’s going on in your head. You need to tell me what that meant.”

“Erm,” Jihoon says, reluctant. “Should I leave?”. They’re blocking his way inside, but neither of them move.

“What do you mean?” she asks, going for innocent, but she’s too nervous, can hear the wobble in her voice. “It’s—it’s New Year’s Eve—”

“You know what I mean,” Hoshi says, eyes sharp, words sharper. “You’ve been more distant, you’ve been talking about moving out, and then you do that, and then you run away—”

“I’ve not—it doesn’t mean—why are you shouting at me about this now? Do we have to do this here?” She tries not to let her voice rise with the panic.

“Yes, we do, because who knows when you’ll be gone—”

“You’re acting like I’m being unreasonable, when I’m only trying to get on with my life—”

“Do you think going around kissing people is what you’re supposed to be doing? Do you think that’s fair on everyone else?”

She’s lost by this line of conversation, blinking quickly to keep back hot tears. “What?”

“Um, guys,” Jihoon says, right before a flash of light interrupts them, startling her. They both turn to see a man in his fourties in front of them, holding a big, professional camera.

“Is one of you Tangerina?” the man says, kneeling to get another shot of the two of them. A second man is getting out of a car behind him, holding a similarly big camera.

“What?” Hoshi says, walking forwards to cover his lens. “Who the hell are you?”

“Is he inside?” he says, standing and pulling the camera away from her. “Boo Seungkwan?”

“There’s no photography allowed in my club,” Hoshi scowls, trying to block his way, but he moves around her to open the door and push past. “Hey! Are you listening to me?”

Another flash distracts her from the encounter, and she turns to see the second man, camera pointed at her. A woman follows behind him, looking at her phone.

“Boo Seungkwan? Do you know him?” she asks, looking Diva up and down.

“Can you fuck off?” Hoshi asks, taking Diva by the elbow and pulling her towards the door, Jihoon close behind them. “Hey, Baekho!” she shouts to the bouncer, “I need you on the door! No one else comes in!”

Baekho stamps out his cigarette, but there’s more of them appearing out of the dark, approaching the club with cameras and mobile phones.

“What the fuck is going on?” Hoshi asks, seething. “Why are there photographers looking for Rina in my club?”

“Didn’t you say she left?” she says, turning to Jihoon.

“Yeah,” Jihoon says, eyes round and unsettled.

Hoshi whips around. “What?”

“Seokjin came in not long ago,” he explains. “Pulled her out of the club. It seemed urgent.”

Hoshi stills. “Seokjin was here?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you have your phone? I need you to look up Seokjin’s name, right now.” She pulls them both inside, looking for the photographer that had pushed past her. It doesn’t take long—there’s a flash of light that illuminates one side of the club, Tiana standing in its path, wide-eyed.

The flash sets off a ripple effect, and the crowd parts around the photographer. People in gay clubs have historically been wary of cameras—it’s why photography is banned here, and why people are looking around in muted panic, worried murmurings spreading through the room.

Hoshi doesn’t take well to people flaunting her rules.

“Hey!” she shouts, storming up to him. “I need you to get out, right now!”

“Oh,” Jihoon says from behind her. “Look.”

She peers at the screen Jihoon’s showing her. There’s a list of articles linked to Kim Seokjin on the screen, and each one of them sports pictures of Seungkwan, in and out of drag, with varyingly gleeful headlines declaring the status of his love life.

Their secret is out. The world knows about Boo Seungkwan and Kim Seokjin.

“Oh, shit,” she breathes. There are patrons around her trying to leave, their eyes on the photographer, but there’s more coming in at the door, cameras wielded like weapons and on the lookout for a scoop.

Hoshi’s voice raises above the crowd, and Baekho appears at the door, trying to escort one of the men out, but there’s too many to deal with at once, for one bouncer and four queens. They need to get a hand on this before it turns into a disaster.

She turns and pushes through to the other side of the room, making her way towards the DJ, who seems to sense the disruption along with the uneasy crowd.

“We need to finish, now,” she says, gesturing to make herself clear. “Cut the music out.”

The DJ complies, and the music stops abruptly, leaving only the sounds of everyone murmuring and drunkenly complaining. “We’re closing!” she shouts over their heads, climbing up onto the stage to be heard. “I’m sorry, but everyone needs to get out!”

There are complaints, but others comply readily, eyeing the photographers and journalists who stand out so distinctly with their professional equipment and winter coats.

Seokmin runs up to her. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“There are photographers in here looking for Seungkwan and Seokjin,” she explains. “The press found out about them. We need to close for everyone’s safety—can you and the others help get everyone out?”

“Oh, no,” he gasps, clearly drunk out of his mind, but willing to help as ever. “Of course! I’ll get them!”

She tells those around her that they need to make an orderly exit, then starts pushing through the crowd again, trying to find Hoshi. She spots her marching a man out through the exit, watching to make sure he leaves, furious. “I will call the police if any of you set foot in here again!” she shouts after him.

“You wouldn’t actually do that, right?” Diva murmurs in her ear. “I have a feeling it wouldn’t go in our favour.”

“Of course not, I’m trying to intimidate them,” she grumbles. “Is it what I thought?”

“Yeah,” she confirms. “Unfortunately.”

Hoshi sucks the air in through her teeth. “Jesus. She’s in for a rough time.”

“So are we,” Diva says, showing her one of the articles. “Half the pictures they got of her have the Pink Dive in the background, and our club is all over her social media. Everyone is about to know who we are and what we do.”

She sighs, watching as the club-goers continue to filter out, many of them still noisy and buzzed. “Right. That’ll be why they’re here. You made a good call by closing the club.”

The stream of people out the door is thinning out, the club emptying. “Thanks.”

“We’re not done with our conversation though. We’re going to shut the place, and then we’re going to go home, and then we’re going to talk.”

She swallows. Hoshi turns around to go back inside, but she stays there for another few minutes, the cold air sending chills through her skin.

-

In her hurried exit Rina had left behind some essential belongings, so Hoshi goes to drop them off with her sister whilst Tiana and July generously drop Diva off home. It gives him time to get in the shower, agonise over his bad decisions and maybe a cry a little bit under the water before changing into comfortable clothes, miserable. The night had been a complete disaster, and he has a feeling it’s not going to get much better.

He towels off his hair and moves into the kitchen, throws some vegetables into a pan and starts frying them both a meal. He hears Hoshi come in, but he doesn’t look up from the food, and Hoshi doesn’t say anything, only moves into the bathroom behind him. The sound of the shower starts up, and though cleaning up and eating together like this is their normal post-Dive routine, he couldn’t feel more uncomfortable at the situation.

Soonyoung is out of the shower by the time the food is done, so he plates them both some stir fry. He takes it with a tentative smile, and gestures for Chan to follow him to couch. Like there’s anywhere else for him to go.

He makes sure to sit a careful distance from him, squashed into the corner of this tiny sofa. Soonyoung’s fingers twitch like he wants to reach out for something. Chan takes a mouthful of food, and Soonyoung does the same. They both sit in silence for a minute, and he eats quickly, wondering if he can escape this conversation, after all.

But silence isn’t something Soonyoung can abide by for long.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you earlier,” he starts, subdued.

He swallows his mouthful of food. “It’s okay. You were justified. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No, it isn’t justified. I shouldn’t have gotten so mad, but I did. I know you didn’t mean any harm by it.”

He puts the plate down on the table. He’s not hungry anymore. “I can’t go around kissing people without asking. It’s my fault. I’m really sorry about that.”

“Yeah,” he says, putting his own plate aside and running a hand through his hair. “Probably not. Especially not…”

He trails off, and Chan waits anxiously “Not what?”

Soonyoung’s eyes flit to his mouth, just for a moment. “Not me.”

His heart drops to his stomach. “Right.”

“Because it hurts when you don’t mean it for real.”

He stills. Stares. Rewind. “What?”

Soonyoung smiles at him, but it doesn’t meet his eyes, all reluctance and withdrawn sadness. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for real for, like, ages. I was pretty shocked when you did that, and then I realised why you did it. That’s why I got so frustrated.”

Chan stares, gobsmacked.

“I wasn’t going to say, because it’s weird when we live together,” Soonyoung says, oblivious to the way his heart is running a mile a minute. “But I know you’ve been making plans to move out, so. I understand if you do. I just wanted you to understand why I reacted like that. I’m not mad at you. I hope you’re not mad at me either.”

Soonyoung clenches his hands, and that’s a sign that he’s about to stand up and escape, so Chan clamps down on his arm, keeping him there. “Hyung—are you serious?”

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice thinning out. “Really—”

“Oh my God, you are. How long has this been going on?”

Soonyoung swallows, clenches his hands again. “Do you remember the night your parents came to the Dive to see you dance? You were so nervous, but you danced so well, and after they praised you for it, you were so happy for the rest of the night.”

“Yeah,” he breathes.

“Seeing you like that made me feel so happy—like, warm, in my chest, and light, and—I don’t know.” He breaks off, blushing. “I thought I was just happy for you, but then I kept getting like that, all the time, when you were doing normal things, and I figured it was something more. I was going to tell you, but then you made it clear you wanted to leave, so I decided against it… but then you kissed me in the club…”

“Do you know why I did that? Really?” he says, keeping Soonyoung’s gaze on him. “I beat you, by the way; I’ve been crushing on you for years. God, I never thought—of all people, you—”

“Wait,” Soonyoung says. “You, too?”

“Yeah,” he says, and the confession leaves him like a warm breath on a cool night, tension falling from his shoulders. “I really like you, Hyung.”

“Woah,” Soonyoung says, taking Chan’s free hand in his own and grasping on, like he might slip away again otherwise. “You’re serious?”

“Very serious,” he says through a smile he can’t fight. “Are you? You have like, proper feelings? Datey feelings?”

“Oh, yeah,” Soonyoung confirms. “I wanna date you so bad.”

A laugh leaves him, breathless. This feels like a fever dream. “That’s funny, because I want to date you even more.”

“Nuh-uh,” Soonyoung says, pulling on his hand to bring him close. “Impossible.”

“We’ll see about that,” he says, before leaning in, confident this time, and kissing him on the mouth. Soonyoung responds, more enthusiastic than he had been before, and it makes him giggle into the kiss, taking Soonyoung’s face in his hands and thumbing the skin of his cheek. Here, in the quiet of their flat, no lights, no crowd, it feels visceral, like he’s aware of every inch of Soonyoung in front of him, like he can finally feel him, properly. Like he’s his.

When he pulls away, Soonyoung is smiling so wide his eyes have disappeared into happy lines. He wraps his arms around Chan’s waist, and pulls him in again, like he can’t get enough of him.

-

Waking up in bed next to Soonyoung is nothing unusual for him, and for a minute, he forgets that everything is different. He watches Soonyoung breathe steadily in his sleep, in and out, and a smile grows on his face when he realises that he’s allowed to touch now, to have this all for himself. To kiss him awake, to make him breakfast in bed, to cuddle up next to him and not worry that he might be being too obvious. He settles for putting a hand on Soonyoung’s chest, feeling his heartbeat, the way his chest rises and falls, and his body is warm, despite the morning-cold bedroom. Though he wants nothing more than to cuddle up close, he’s still cautious about being too much, about where they stand now.

As it turns out, he’s the only one with such worries. When Soonyoung slowly blinks awake, he turns his head to look at Chan and grins, all goofy smile and lined eyes. He rolls over to fling an arm and leg over Chan’s body, trapping him there, burrowing his face into his neck.

“Good morning,” he murmurs, and Chan tries not to shiver at the feeling of his voice though his skin.

“Good morning,” he says. “Not having second thoughts, are you?”

“Does this look like second thoughts to you?”

“I suppose not,” he says, smiling.

“And you?” Soonyoung says, propping himself up on his elbows to look down at him, bare-faced and sleep-subdued. “We’re really doing this?”

“Yeah,” he says. He’s never been surer about anything. “I never thought I’d have the slightest chance with you. I’d be stupid to pass it up now.”

Soonyoung leans down to kiss his shoulder, when the loose collar of his shirt has slipped aside to reveal some skin. “Good. I think this’ll be fun.”

“A new adventure.”

“Right,” he agrees. “Hey. Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Why did tell me you wanted to move out?”

“You were really hung up about that, huh?” he murmurs.

Soonyoung pouts. “Of course. My baby told me he wanted to leave me.”

“I didn’t want to leave you. I wanted to get over you. There’s a difference.”

He rests his chin on Chan’s chest. “You didn’t even want to try and tell me why? You underestimate how lovable you are.”

“That was the problem. I know you love me. The problem was how you see me. You used to call me ‘kid’ all the time, and tried to help me with my homework, and stop me from ordering alcohol. I thought there would be no way in a million years I’d be dating material for you, who basically put me through my last two years of school.”

“Yeah. I was a bit scared, to be honest, when I started seeing you differently. But I haven’t done any of that stuff in a while, have I? You’re a kid no longer, Lee Chan.”

“I suppose so,” he says, biting his lip. “I was too far in my own head, I guess.”

“You tend to do that,” Soonyoung remarks. “Be nice if you could join us in the real world sometimes.” He boops him on the nose and sits up, stretching.

“I’m plenty present,” he protests, wrinkling his nose. “Just because I have more capability for thought than you doesn’t make me withdrawn.”

“Hey!” Soonyoung says, laughing, shuffling over to grab his phone from the side. “You think I run a club on an empty head?”

“I think that club is the only thing in your head,” he says, pulling the covers further up to keep him warm now that Soonyoung’s body heat has moved away. “Your thought process is the Pink Dive, dancing, tigers, on repeat.”

“And Lee Chan,” he says gleefully, lying back down face-to-face with him. “Pink Dive, Channie, dancing, Diva Saur, tigers, my boyfriend. Like that.”

A thrill goes through him at being referred to like that. Him, Soonyoung’s boyfriend! “Well, that’s not too bad. At least you’ve got some sense up there.” He taps his head lightly.

Soonyoung smiles up at him, starts to scroll through his notifications. “That’s right, baby. I’ve got it all figured out.”

They lay in the quiet for a minute or two, Chan busying himself with running his hand through Soonyoung’s hair. It’s peaceful, and so far removed from the chaos of last night that it’s a little jarring to have it brought up again.

“Jinseol says Seungkwan is okay,” he says, looking intently at his phone. “He’s staying with Seokjin right now. They’ve spoken to his management, and they’re doing what they can to get a hold on things. He passed on an apology for the commotion last night.”

“I’m glad he’s okay. I hope he’s not beating himself up about it all. It’s not like he wanted any of this.”

Soonyoung doesn’t answer him. Instead, he sits up, blinking down at his phone.

“What is it?” he asks, sitting up with him.

“Seokjin just paid off my debt,” he says, eyes wide. “The loan I took out to set up the Dive, he’s paid for it all as an apology.”

“Really?”

He nods, slowly. “I had, like, an eight-year plan on that thing… and he’s paid it off, just like that!”

“That’s amazing! Doesn’t that mean all the profit is yours, now? Anything you make from the club?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, lowering his phone to look up at him. “It’s all mine, now.”

He beams, wide. “We should celebrate! I mean, maybe not with everyone, Seungkwan has still had his private life exposed to the world. It would be bad taste. But we could crack out something to drink between us. Do we have anything in?”

Soonyoung laughs at him. “It’s first thing in the morning on New Year’s Day, and you want to drink?”

“Okay, maybe not right now, but still. This is a big thing, isn’t it? We should do something!”

“You know what I was going to do? When I paid off the loan?”

“What?”

“I was going to take out another one. The plan was to be older, and more experienced, and to be stable at the Dive… and start another one somewhere, start a chain. To bring the Dive to as many people as possible.”

“That is so you. Finishing one thing and going straight onto the next.”

He smiles sheepishly, looking back down at his phone. “I don’t know what to do with myself now.”

“You could still do it, you know. I hear Busan has a dire lack of gay clubs, and a very talented queen looking for work. We could find a proper place for us, with a real plan.”

Soonyoung looks at him. “Are you serious? You’d move to Busan with me?”

“Why not?” he says. “If you wanted to move out anyway, a whole new city would give us a fresh start.”

“Well,” Soonyoung says, nodding slowly. “I’m in if you are.”

He sits up straighter. “You want to do that?”

“Of course,” he says. “As long as the Dive remains stable after this, I don’t see why not. I get to expand my business, and I get to have you. What’s to lose?”

He laughs and throws his arms around his shoulders in glee, the force of the hug pushing them both back down onto the bed, the force of his smile hidden in Soonyoung’s shirt.

-

The Pink Dive reopens a fortnight after the New Year’s incident, with new doormen, new staff, firmer admittance policies and a packed schedule. In reaction to their newfound publicity, the gay community in Seoul seems to have re-centred around the Dive, the new cultural hub for queens to perform and debut, and their numbers show it. The publicity of his relationship, while difficult for Seungkwan, has done nothing but boost the club’s reputation, and as a result they see the most prosperous month for the Dive since she’d opened.

“It’s like, yeah, maybe I’m losing my mind over the way people are ransacking every social media account I’ve ever had, and yeah, maybe I can’t go into work properly because people keep asking after me at the café, but you know what? It’s almost worth it, for the way Hoshi has never been so alive. It’s like the success of this place directly feeds into her life force.”

Rina is here, only she’s taken the name Jasmine for tonight, and is enjoying coming up with more ridiculous responses to the people who come around asking for her. “Tangerina? Never heard of her. Try the other gay clubs, once you’ve bought a drink from here.”

“No, I think she ran away with one of her stalker reporters. You should try a different city.”

“Tangerina? Oh, she retired to become a farmer. Sorry.”

It’s entertaining, as well as relieving, to know it’s not so bad that she hasn’t lost her spirit.

“Are you guys going to sue?” Tiana asks. “Is it even legal for them to expose you like that?”

“We are, actually,” she says, expression a little vengeful. “It would be legal if all the pictures were public ones. But one was taken through the window of my house, so. We’re suing.”

“That’s shameless,” July says, in disbelief. “Through your window?”

“Yeah,” she laughs, humourless. “Maybe I’ll get some cash out of all this, too, and not just Hoshi with the Dive profits.”

Hoshi, up on the stage, slut drops to the floor, and the crowd screams.

“Hey,” Diva says, when they’re at a lull between performances, and she can’t keep it in anymore. “We’re dating, now.”

The other three turn from where they were watching the performance to stare at her. “What?” Rina asks, eyes bright.

“Hoshi and I. We’re together now.”

Rina immediately squeals, and stands up to come to her side of the booth and envelop her in a hug. “You did it! You confessed!”

“Actually, she confessed first,” she says, and Rina releases her to gasp.

“Really?” Tiana says, delighted. “When?”

“New Year’s Eve,” she says, blushing. She hadn’t realised how embarrassing it would be to relay this. “We kissed at the countdown, and then talked about it when we got home, and… things kind of unravelled from there. So we’re dating.”

“I did not see that coming,” July admits, but there’s a wide smile on her face. “But that is amazing.”

“I’m so happy for you!” Rina gushes. “You two are perfect together!”

“I’ve known her for six years, and she’s never properly dated anyone before,” July says. “You must be really special.”

She looks down at the table, blushing hard. “Thanks.”

“Was nobody watching my set?” Hoshi’s whine comes from behind her. “I was really proud of that last song.”

“You two are dating!” Rina screams again, leaping on Hoshi. They get a few stares from surrounding tables. “Congrats!”

“Oh, you told them,” Hoshi says, stepping back with the weight of Rina on her.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Hey, Diva was my baby first, you know,” July says. “You’d better take good care of her.”

“Unnie,” she complains, though she can’t help but smile.

“Like I’d do anything else,” Hoshi says, leaning down to press Diva’s cheek against her own. “Do you doubt me?”

July smiles, and stands to get ready for her set. “Not at all.”

“This is the best news I’ve had in ages,” Rina says. “Do you guys want to go on double dates? Maybe in, like, five years, when Seokjin and I aren’t anxious to go outside together anymore, but still.”

“I will hold you to that. Double date in five years.”

“Done. I’ll be there.”

“Nice of you to ask me about it,” Hoshi grumbles.

Diva leans back to look up at her, smiling sweetly. “You’re welcome.”

Hoshi leans down to kiss her on the lips, easily forgiving. She still gets a zing down her spine at kisses, still gets warmth in her cheeks when they touch. It makes Hoshi all too pleased with herself, leaving her with one last lingering touch to her arm before she moves away to take care of her club.

-

Chan’s birthday party, of course, goes down at the Dive, and it’s ridiculously fun even if he tries not to get too drunk, aware that he has to meet his parents the next day. With them, he arranges to have a meal on nice neutral ground, at a diner in the heart of Seoul. He also gives them the heads up that he’s going to be bringing along his boyfriend.

“Your what?” his mom echoes down the phone, and he breathes in deep.

“My boyfriend. You met him briefly at the club, do remember Soonyoung?”

“The man you’ve been living with?” she says, voice raising. “Chan, how long has this been going on? How old is he?”

“He’s twenty-six.” Across the room, Soonyoung cringes. “And we only started dating last month. You don’t need to worry, I promise I’m being sensible.”

“Oh, Chan,” she says, weary. “Are you sure this is the best idea?”

“What, dating him or bringing him to meet you?”

“Well, darling…”

“Hey, can you just… reserve your thoughts, right now?” he asks. “Please? See what you think when you meet him properly? He’s really nice, and funny, and I think you’ll like him if you give him a chance.”

He can feel Soonyoung’s eyes on him, and his cheeks get a little warm. His mom sighs through the phone. “Okay. We’ll see you at the meal, then, baby. Should we be expecting anyone else?”

“No, it’ll just be the four of us.”

“Alright. I’ll tell your father.”

“Please do,” he says. He’d been hoping the fact that they had met Soonyoung already might open them up a little to the idea of a real, actual boyfriend, but clearly he’s in no such luck. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

The call ends, and he goes to get up, only to have Soonyoung’s arms snake around his shoulders and pull him back. “You think I’m funny?”

“Don’t act like this is news,” he says, attempting to wriggle away. “You know you’re funny.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he says, smile in his voice. “Always nice to hear it, though.”

“I’m trying not to inflate your ego.”

“Why would you ever do that?” Soonyoung sits down on the couch, pulling Chan with him, who lands in his lap. He turns halfway to look at him, giving up trying to escape.

“You’re already insufferable, you don’t need the big head too.”

Soonyoung pouts. “Go back to the nice things you were saying before. I prefer that.”

Chan kisses his pout, and when he feels Soonyoung’s grip go lax at his sides, he stands up out of his lap with a smile. “You’ll have to catch me first.”

He darts away, but Soonyoung follows after him quickly, chasing him around the tiny flat and laughing as he goes.

-

“Hi!” he says brightly when his parents approach the two of them, waiting outside the diner.

“Happy Birthday, baby,” his mom greets, leaning down to hug him and plant a kiss on one cheek. Then she straightens up, and watches Soonyoung bow to her in greeting.

“Hello,” she says, colder.

“Channie,” his dad says, distracting him, and he smiles before greeting him with a hug too.

“Hi, Dad.”

“And this must be your boyfriend?” The word sounds strange in his dad’s mouth, uncomfortable and foreign.

Soonyoung bows to him too, and extends a warm hand to shake. “Kwon Soonyoung. We didn’t talk much before. It’s nice to meet you again.”

The two of them had gone to Soonyoung’s family’s place for the Lunar New Year, and done the job of telling his family while they were there, announced their relationship along with the plan to move to Busan. The reaction had been overwhelmingly delighted, and Chan had received a lot of pinched cheeks and well wishes and even some traditional pocket money from the elders. He’d been so grateful for them, for the way they were so happy for them.

The contrast now is almost comical. His dad shakes Soonyoung’s hand firmly, and nods at him, mouth set in a line. He’s having a hard time telling if it’s Soonyoung they’re protesting to, or the idea of a boyfriend at all, or the idea of him dating at this age. Even if he is twenty-one, he’s still their only child, still been away from home since he was seventeen. He kind of gets it, even if it’s frustrating.

“Shall we go in?” he suggests, ushering them in out of the tense atmosphere and the cold air. “I booked a table, so we should have somewhere to sit.”

His parents give him his gifts and proceed to ignore Soonyoung for the first twenty minutes or so, asking Chan about his life since he’d seen them at Christmas. Seungkwan’s scandal has been in their peripheral, and they send him their well wishes.

It’s pretty sudden when his mom finally turns to Soonyoung. “And your club? Has business been good?”

Soonyoung almost spits out his drink in his haste to answer. “Yeah, it’s been really good, actually. Business has done well, and Seokjin helped us out a lot over the New Year. We’re hoping to expand to Busan, actually.”

He cringes—he hadn’t been planning on telling them about the move until their plans were set, and Soonyoung knows that, but he tends to run his mouth when he’s nervous.

“You’re moving to Busan?” his dad remarks, looking between them.

“Yeah,” Chan confirms, sitting up straighter. Whatever. He’s adaptable, and he can work with this. “Actually, we’re going to run a new place together.”

“You’re moving to Busan to set up a club?” his mom asks, voice ringing through the restaurant. “Are you sure about this? You’re so young, to be doing something like that!”

“It was my idea, actually,” he says. “I want to do it. I love the Dive a lot, and I’d love to help get another one set up in the same way.”

“I set up the first Dive all on my own at first, just a few years ago,” Soonyoung says. “Around Chan’s age, actually. Our family there was accumulated after that. We’d be able to do it again between the two of us, I’m sure. Start from scratch to make something good.”

“Yeah,” he says, smiling at him. “I know we can.”

“Do you know where to begin with all of this?” his mom asks. “There are a lot of aspects to it, you know.”

Chan breathes in, breathes out. Tries to remember that she’s only anxious for him, only doing her best to look out for him. “Like Hyung said, he set up the Dive on his own, and it would be the same process again. He has a degree in business, actually, and I’ve been working at the Dive for a few years now. We’ll be okay.” He reaches out to take her hand over the table. “Please don’t be upset with either of us about this. It’s what I want to do.”

The food arrives then, and they eat in a somewhat uncomfortable quiet, going back to small talk. When they’re paying the bill, he thinks about the way Soonyoung’s mother had almost crushed him in a delighted hug and welcomed him to the family, all beaming smiles and kind words. He can’t help but feel a little guilty.

As they’re going out, he asks Soonyoung to pick them up some hot drinks before they go. “I hear they do takeaway here.”

Soonyoung, not as air-headed as he teases him to be, recognises the attempt to get rid of him, and bows politely to his parents. “It was nice to meet you, Mr. & Mrs. Lee.”

They don’t do much more than nod back and watch him go, and Chan starts walking them to their car.

“I know you’re not very happy about this,” he starts. “I’m sorry to disappoint you. But I hope you can come to accept this. I really like him, and I want to be with him for a long time.”

“Baby,” his mom says, reaching out to loop her arm around his. “It’s not just that he’s a man. It’s that you’re so young, and you’re moving so fast…don’t you think you should slow down and look at this again?”

He shakes his head, trying for a smile. “If I did, I would see what I already know. He makes me happy. My life now makes me happy. I’m building what I want to have.”

“Does it have to be in Busan?” his dad asks. “Do you have to leave all over again?”

His heart hurts at that, and the guilt weighs in, heavy as ever. “I’ll be back loads, I promise. I can’t stay here forever, and I can’t keep myself back from what I want to do because of things tying me to Seoul.”

They reach the car, and his dad turns to face him. “And school? Is that still what you want to do in the future?”

“One day, yes. But right now, I think things are good as they are. I know what I want, and I should reach out for it, while I can.”

His mom envelops him in a hug. “You know we’ll always love you, even if we don’t agree with you, right? You can always come home.”

He holds her back, the material of her coat rough against his face. “I know. I love you too.”

He hugs his dad, too, who pats his back a few times before letting him go.

“I’ll see you soon. I promise.”

His mom plants a kiss to his cheek before dipping into the passenger seat and shutting the door behind her.

“Bye, Dino,” his dad says, walking around to the driver’s seat.

“Bye,” he says, stepping back from the car. His mom waves at him as the car pulls out of the space, and he waves back, even as the car drives away, until he can’t see them anymore.

-

“The place has been in disuse for a few years,” the estate agent explains, as she twists the key in the lock. “But it still passes health and safety regulations, and with some refurbishment, it could be as good as new.” The door opens and she steps in, and the two of them follow after her.

It’s not the most inspiring place he’s ever seen, but it’s a decent size, and already laid out well for what they need. It was a bar before, so there’s some of the appropriate furniture left in the place, the odd table and chair and some cobwebbed beer taps behind the bar.

“Why did the place shut before?” Soonyoung asks, walking the circumference of the room.

“Not enough business at the time,” she answers. “There’s a popular street for bars up the road, and the previous owner found competition difficult.”

“That’s no problem for us,” he says once Soonyoung reaches him, inspecting the state behind the bar. “We’re bringing something different.”

“Let’s hope so,” Soonyoung murmurs. “Could you see yourself here? Dancing?”

“Totally,” he says, turning to look at the room. “We could put a big stage in there—bigger than the one in Seoul, and install one of those retractable poles for July, if she comes to visit.”

“Sure,” he grins, seeing Chan’s vision, too. “It would look cool with some neon lights at the back, there—and maybe a decal, along that wall—”

“Right,” he agrees. “The ceiling is kind of low, but imagine what that’ll do for the acoustics.”

“We could put on some great shows here. We would blow some minds.”

“You know it.”

“There’s a flat attached to it, if you want to see,” the estate agent says, and the two of them look at each other.

“Oh, we certainly do,” Chan says, taking Soonyoung by the hand and walking after her, down a corridor and along to a staff door. They go up a set of stairs, and she fiddles with another jerky lock.

“There’s an entrance from the outside too,” she explains, pushing the door open. “And both doors between here and the downstairs lock, for security.”

The flat, for its attachment to a bar, is nicer than he’d expected. It has more room than Soonyoung’s current place, and wide windows along the living room wall, looking out into a Busan high street. It makes the room feel light and big, and he steps in, breathing in the musty air. Tries to visualise a new sofa, a TV in the corner, fresh curtains on the windows.

The estate agent’s phone starts to ring, and she excuses herself, leaving the two of them to investigate the room.

“Oh, it’s not bad,” Soonyoung says, poking his head into the bedroom.

“Yeah?” he says, hopeful. Maybe he’s a little idealistic, but to him, it’s perfect; a flat big enough for two of them, right on top of a building that could be theirs, that they could make new.

“Yeah. Do you like it?”

He looks out through the windows to size up the city, the lights slowly turning on down the street as the sun goes down. “Yeah. I really do. I could see us here.”

He can sense Soonyoung coming up behind him, readily accepts the arms around his middle, leans back into them. “I think I can too. I think this might be the place.”

He turns around in his arms, beaming. “You think so?”

Soonyoung nods. “It’s way better than the other place we saw, and it’s right in the middle of the city. We advertise right, and we could really get something going.”

He has to refrain from bouncing up and down in place, chooses to lean in for a kiss instead. “I really want that. Let’s get this place.”

“Alright. This is it, then.”

He laughs in delight. “Just like that?”

“Anything for you, Channie,” Soonyoung grins. He moves forwards, reaching out for one of the windows, swinging it open and sticking his head out. “Hello Busan!” he yells down the street. “We’re here for you!”

Chan laughs, and wonders how it is that he came to have someone like Soonyoung, with all his passion and all his power.

Soonyoung turns back to him, eyes alight. “They’re not ready for us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like i've been working on this forever, and here it is, finally! i hope you enjoyed!
> 
> i kind of have a love/hate relationship with this fic. i like it enough to post it, obviously, and there are parts i love a lot, that i'm really pleased with. but i feel like it's not as strong as my other works, and i can't quite pinpoint why. i'd love to hear your thoughts, either in a comment or you can hit me up on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/hope_boos) i appreciate feedback and concrit!  
edit: I've come to super love this fic. it's really weird seeing my feelings back when I was fresh off working it, I guess cause a bunch of scenes gave me difficulty. still! love my babies! thank u for getting to the end!
> 
> thanks to my beta [rachel](https://twitter.com/koyahyah) for cheering me on whenever i lost motivation with this!
> 
> the second part, as i mentioned, deals with seungkwans perspective of events in this fic, but i think it's quite different from this fic, so please do check it out for more of these characters and this world ^.^
> 
> you can also retweet this fic [here!](https://twitter.com/hope_boos/status/1190984930228080647?s=20)  
thank you for reading!


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